


Bertie and the Message from Beyond

by curtangel



Category: Jeeves & Wooster, Jeeves - P. G. Wodehouse
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Not Beta Read, Period-Typical Homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-03-21 08:05:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13736679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curtangel/pseuds/curtangel
Summary: Bertie deals with spiritualists for a friendRocky/Bertie, mildly implied Corky/BertieTakes place post-engagement to Honoria in "The Inimitable Jeeves"





	1. Back in New York

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bertie returns to New York after Pop Glossop nixed his engagment to Honoria.

"I'm looking forward to walking on dry land again. I never can get used to the unsteadiness of the sea. I don't see how you manage it, Jeeves."

The first evidence of land was barely visible from the prow, if you squinted a bit. We couldn't get to America fast enough, as far as I was concerned. I had avoided sea-sickness but I couldn't seem to find my sea legs and had already managed to stain my favorite jacket. Jeeves thought a good cleaning in America would correct the matter but its the principle of the thing.

"Its only a matter of time and practice, sir."

"You must have some old seafaring blood in you. 'Are you not moved....' how does that bit go?"

"Sir?"

"Something about the earth swaying...."

"Are not you moved, when all the sway of earth shakes like a thing unfirm?"

"That's the baby. Yes, that. You'd think you were standing on solid ground for all the stumbling you've been doing. What is that from anyway?"

" _Julius Caesar_ , sir."

"Yes, yes. Well, I'm not Julius Caesar, Jeeves. I'm moved by the swaying of the earth."

"Yes, sir."

Now, the reader might be wondering why I was leaving my beloved London for America. Its a long story - hopefully you're familiar with it or we're going to get lost. The short version is I had, through a cacophony of circumstance, become engaged to one Honoria Glossop. Through equally complicated circumstances, I had become disengaged (or perhaps unengaged?) from her and I had to flee to America to avoid one Aunt Agatha's wrath. 

"I think..." I tried to act like this was an impulsive decision, "I think I'm going to stay with Mr Todd for a few days while you get the New York homestead up to snuff, Jeeves."

I might have casually flicked some lint from my cuffs as I said this.

"Very well, sir." Jeeves responded without even a twitch of the eyebrow, "would you like me to notify you when the living arrangements are settled?"

"Of course - lets bung a dickie in a paper bag, you can telegram me the address and I'll meander my way up before I go mad from the quiet and crickets."

"Very good, sir."

Now you might be wondering why I was acting so debonair and casual about staying at a good friend's home. Lets get the preliminary spadework out of the way - its because Rocky and I planned to engage in what the administrators in the old schooldays termed "homosexual activities". Now, Bertram isn't one to let himself run away with vice - I consider such occasions rather akin to Boat Race Night.  A sort of return to former glory, what? This is both simplified and complicated by the fact that Rocky prefers such activities and considers the opposite sex something of a  _nolle prosequi_. He sees a beautiful girl with all the fixings and says give me a chap instead - I must confess on occasion I can see his point. It was unclear what Jeeves might make of my plans so I made sure to wear the mask.

At an ungodly hour, I was decanted from the ship to a train station while Jeeves stayed behind to arrange matters in New York. Somehow I managed to keep myself awake while waiting by conversing with a fellow expatriate who was coming back around the opposite way and returning to London. We both had time weighing on us as an unwanted bounty and chatted about this and that. He had gone off to a dude ranch and had bought too many hats, handkerchief clips and belt buckles and was worried about transferring them home. I just happened to be more than happy to take a few off his hands. Perfect for a fancy dress party. I might have overpaid a bit, but such is _noblesse oblige_. Maybe he'll pay off his bookie a little faster and have a little something left over for the next race. We Woosters watch our shillings but accept that occasionally some things are worth an extra expenditure.

I had a short nap on the train but by some miracle managed to be awake for the correct stop.  I decided to wake the Wooster corpus with something from relatively clean little diner near the station that had the occasional edible steak and kidney pie and a solidly middle-aged waitress named Myrtle.

"Good morning, Myrtle." I rang out cheerfully as I bellied up to the glistening white counter that Myrtle was carefully wiping down with a reasonably clean looking rag.

"Good morning, English. Want some roast beef and tea this morning?"

"I think I'll have a bit of the latter, thank you. Its a touch early for roast beef but tea is just what we're looking for - need to clear the old bean."

"If you want to clear the bean, sweetie, you need some coffee beans not hot leaf water. Show a little daring, boy."

Considering it a minute, I decided, "I am feeling a little daring today - how about some bacon and eggs to go with my _tea_?" The old tum might suffer later, but I suspected I wouldn't be eating much today otherwise.

She seemed to enjoy this bit of backchat - "No daring required - your eggs are fresh from the hen's behind and your bacon was oinking within the week."

There were a few other fellows coming in for their morning coffee to go in little paper cups - business types who work in New York from the looks of their suits. After they left she noted, "They're planning to add some extra trains back and forth in the next few weeks."

"You wouldn't happen to have the updated schedule handy, would you?" It occurred to me that this could be handy to visit old Rocky a little more often while in New York.

"You planning to stay in the country a bit again?" There was a thingummy in her voice - I wasn't quite sure what to make of it. It could have been pleased but it also could have been less than. Of course, she could have just been thinking about the extra coffee she needed to make.

"I'll only be staying with Rocky for a day or two but I might make an extra trip if you're planning to make some of that roast beef you mentioned."

She winked at me with a bit of a twinkle in her other (that is her non-winking) eye. "If I know anything about Englishmen, there's two things they love and one of them is roast beef."

"I hope the latter is all you serve." I joked back.

"I can serve the first when necessary." This was a long running joke between us - she'd make this comment every time Rocky and I ate at the diner together and he'd spend the rest of the day trying to figure out what the other thing was. I wasn't quite sure what she meant myself but it was fun to tease Rocky about it. I assumed it was something unseemly based on Rocky's hints that Myrtle used to live a... nontraditional life in her pre-waitress days. "I think its fair to warn you the area has changed a bit in the last year or so. More upper class families, wealthy businessmen that sort of thing."

"Isn't that good?" I had always heard of this as a positive. Bring in the upper class families and wealthy businessmen always seemed to be refrain from little villages like this.

"It can be. Bit more business. Fellows who come in want their coffee and to go on. But it can cause a few other problems. So, you're going to be staying with your friend?" That thing was in her voice again.

"Just a day or two." My breakfast came soon after that and some fellows of more the usual type with dirt on their brow came in for their breakfasts so our little _tete a tete_ ended until I paid my bill. Then she did the strangest thing - she leaned in whispered, "Watch yourself, English." and ran off to another customer before I could ask what she meant.

Rocky's little cottage was a couple of miles from the railway station but a pleasant enough tramp - especially when you've been off solid ground and want to get your land legs back.  Now, maybe it was Myrtle's warning, but I had the strangest sensation of being watched from the scattered homes along the way to Rocky's. These little villages do tend to be wary of strangers. The sun was still low in the sky signaling that Rocky was almost certainly still visiting the land of nod, but I knew where the key was under the mat. Metaphorically, that is because Rocky didn't believe in locking his home - or at least that's what he claimed but I, being the fathead I am, had a hard time following his reasoning. He would get as far as "private property" - and those words in Rocky's American accent would give me a manly case of the chuckles that would lead to Rocky laughing at me laughing and both of us laughing until we cry at our own laughter - and finally some passionate kisses wherein Rocky would exhort me to never change. This was a refreshing change of pace from the usual (opposite) request from both aunt and soon-to-be former fiancee.

On this particular morning, I found I was correct and Rocky was still knitting some tangled sleeve or other. I carried my small case to my usual room - that is the only other bedroom. I placed my new belt buckle, handkerchief clip and hat on my endtable to admire before settling in for a short nap.

I opened my eyes to a much brighter room a few hours later but Rocky had not yet finished knitting. I made use of his facilities and cleaned the self up a bit - paying a bit more attention to the middle area than I might normally. A great deal more if one were to be completely honest, but a fellow deserves a little privacy in such matters. I toweled self off thoroughly and dressed in a pair of mint green pajamas Rocky had left for my use. Jeeves would give me the stink-eye and possibly let a displeased noise or two for wearing pajamas so late in the day, but when in Rome... (though perhaps Greece would be a better comparison). More practically, wearing Rocky's pajamas kept my own clothes clean and free of evidence of our activities. It only took a washerwoman saying she saw this and that and suddenly the police are at your doorstep. It would be unpleasant.  I'd have to answer questions.

Rocky was awake and smoking a contented pipe on his tattered sofa when I glided into the sitting room.

"Am I being too forward to hope this visit was just to see me?"

I had to nip this line of thinking in the bud. "Its a mess, old dear."

"What was it this time, my boy?" Rocky was unafraid to get to the point. I settled next to Rocky and prepared my own thoughtful cigarette. "Tell me all about it, Bertie."

So I did. I started with Bingo and Aunt Agatha, middled with my engagement and ended with the disastrous lunch with Pop Glossop.

"I don't understand why you don't tell your Aunt to mind her own damned business." I made a slight noise of disapproval at his strong language, "Is this some sort of English thing? Do you people still arrange marriages?" Rocky wasn't able to disguise touch of disgust in his voice at this last bit gesturing with his pipe.

"That's my Aunt Agatha, who howls at the moon and eats broken glass. My sister was completely chased out of England when she married outside of Aunt Agatha's preferences. Her husband passed on to the great beyond last year and she says neither she nor my nieces are coming back to England until... well... I won't quote her exact words but loosely until Aunt Agatha is in the same state as her beloved spouse if not in quite the same place." I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding until it came with a bit of smoke. "I rather have some fondness for London in particular and England in a more general sense and its is far more pleasant when Aunt Agatha is willing to allow one Betram to be there in peace."  Rocky put an affectionate arm around my shoulders and I settled myself in a bit.

"Well my home is open to you whenever you need to escape from errant aunts." He kissed my upper story warmly.

"I'll be out of your hair in a day or two. I know how you love your peace and quiet."

Rocky tapped out his pipe as if to contradict this and left it on the endtable.

"You do tend to be noisy when you stay here." Rocky spoke huskily, allowing his newly unoccupied hand to rest on my leg around the knee. "But if you ever decided that you needed a little peace and quiet of your own, I wouldn't object to you staying around a bit. Any other news from over the pond?"

"Nothing about anyone you know or care about." I might have moved in a way that allowed Rocky's hand to move up a bit.

"Speaking of which, how much time do I need to make up with that fellow of yours?"

I suppose I should explain this a bit to my reader - Rocky is unique among my friendships in that we mainly know each other through correspondence. We met years ago through circumstances too complicated to go into at present and he's taken to seeing himself as my "other fellow's" romantic rival. He made a game out of "matching" my London fellow's activities. I don't mind and I will confess to even inflating the time on occasion but in this case I was hoping to avoid this conversation.

"Are we still doing that?" I arched my back like an earthworm hit by a spade, pushing up the hand a bit more - we Woosters are not above using our seductive wiles to our advantage. "I think at this point its a bit silly." 

"Its not silly to me. That fellow gets more access to you than I do, so I have to make up for lost time. I got well caught up when you stayed here for a year or so but I need to make sure I stay ahead. I can't have some fellow that likes girls buggering you more than I do." Now the hand was moving of its own volition, lightly tracing on my thigh. It was distracting.

I decide to be casual.

"I haven't even been keeping track. Its hardly been a year. Maybe 45 minutes? Probably not even that. We cut things off a few months back." The hand stopped.

"He dumped you?" This was good old Rocky. You'd think he'd be glad to have his rival out of the way but he's protective of the Wooster heart to a fault.

"Now I knew you'd take it like that, and I'll have you know it was a mutual decision."  I sat up straighter, firmly stamping out my cigarette. 

"A mutual decision as in...."

"As in, he said he needed to focus on getting married and thought he'd have more focus if we were only friends and I agreed."

"Oh, Bertie!" Rocky was all sympathy but I stayed firm.

"I'm not upset. I knew we'd have to break things off, eventually. We had a nice time and we're still good friends. Honestly, it lasted years longer than I ever expected. I was thinking about breaking things off for that exact reason."

"You've been in love with him since you were in kindergarten together!" Rocky was being a touch overdramatic.

"You're being overdramatic, old thing." I did my best to wear the mask because he'd mistake any upset on my part for me being upset about this other fellow.

"You told me that yourself."

"Yes, but... We went to school together. Its difficult to explain."

"Well... if you want to take a break or talk about it..."

"I don't. I tell you, I'm fine." Rocky never understood my relationship with my fellow in London, which would be fine if he weren't so sure I was being taken advantage of in some manner. I suppose the green eyed demon hits the best of us.

"You were with him for almost fifteen years."

"And we're still friends. Nothing has else has changed. I wouldn't have even mentioned it if you hadn't asked."

"And would you give me up so easily?" 

The scales fell from my eyes. Rocky was worried I'd toss him aside like a soiled glove.

"I'd like to imagine we would continue to correspond, at least....if I got married."

Rocky started to laugh which told me I was winning this little battle.

"You mean it, don't you? Fifteen years and you say 'Right ho!' and turn it off like a faucet." He cupped my chin in his hand, "You are as shallow as a dish." Then he kissed me. 

Now, usually I'm not one to allow talk like this. If an aunt, for example, had called me as shallow as a dish I would have drawn myself up to my full height and let her know that such besmirchments of my character would not be allowed. However, Rocky had a way of saying these things as if they were compliments - qualities he loved and admired. Perhaps they were - Rocky had a queer way of looking at things sometimes.

So, when I came up for air, I merely breathed, "What kind of dish?"

"The kind that aunts and aunt sympathizers eat their tiny cucumber sandwiches off of at tea time."

"So, more of a plate?" I gathered, trying to understand where he was going with this.

Rocky pulled me towards him until we were eyeball to eyeball positioning me so our middle areas touched. "The kind with little blue and violet flowers circling the center and gold edging. Every tea time its placed on a little doily, and prim old aunts eat their tiny sandwiches, then its briskly wiped and brushed and placed in its special decorative shelf." I could feel his breath on my neck and shuddered involuntarily, finding his ideas strangely interesting. "Then, one day, a big crude American with a basket of greasy fried chicken comes along and pulls it out of its little decorative shelf." Rocky dropped his voice to a whisper in my ear, "I think he's going to eat greasy chicken off of that little plate."

"They'll never get the grease off." I murmured, comfortably wrapping myself around Rocky like the buckle on a belt. He chuckled appreciatively.

"It will be all right - this fellow thinks this plate is a darling little thing. He licks off every crumb, every little drip. And then the butler comes afterwards and cleans the plate carefully, toweling it dry and setting it back on its little shelf where no one will ever know."

 "Butlers don't do that." I gasped - I like to get things right.

"This one does." and I wasn't in a state to argue the point for a little while because Rocky gave me a kiss I could feel down to my toes. There was some honest sweat, gasping and my mint green pajamas didn't come out of it without some damage. Such are the costs of vice. Afterwards, Rocky patted and kissed me about the upper slopes saying "There, there..." as if I were a small boy who had been brave through a mildly uncomfortable medical procedure.

I enjoyed this for a bit before I remembered that he had made insinuations that couldn't be allowed to stand, "I'll have you know the Wooster heart has hidden depths."

"I like to think I'm intimately familiar with every inch of your hidden depths, darling." Rocky laughed, "If you want to prove to me there isn't hidden pains in that Wooster heart then give me a seductive answer instead of honest one... how much time has that fellow of yours in London spent having you since I last saw you?"

"Hours," I said without hesitation - I can, on occasion, pick up on cues such as this, "I can't keep him off of me."

"Well," Rocky smiled, "I have some work to do."

"Why don't you start with telling me what's been going on with you?"

"I've been doing what I always do, Bertie. I sit on my fence-post and imagine what the worms are doing. Come to bed, and I'll tell you about them."

Rocky whisked me off to the bedroom and told me all about the earthworms. It was a story he has told me at least once every time we've met up at his cabin - it had different tangents and the salient points would differ based on Rocky's whims but at its core it was a story about a worm who meets another worm. They greet each other by touching and rubbing against each other and, after a few digressions, the story usually ended with the earthworm going home where it settles itself into its favorite little spot.  

After we both had a bit of rest, Rocky dug a little more deeply into his repertoire over the afternoon and into the evening, starting with rabbits that rub each others ears and burrow into their little dens and finishing with crickets rubbing their legs and chirping together all night.

I didn't sleep continuously until the crickets stopped chirping sometime early the next morning.  We curled up together like bunnies in their nest until the sun was highish in the sky to the point of starting to inch back down again.

After a bit of burned breakfast, I showered and was trying to wake up by slurping the liquid he called "tea". I was thinking of how I must be putting Rocky off his normal schedule, so I suggested that we spend the day outside so he won't get too worried about the ants he likes to watch going too long without him

Rocky was going to respond when there was a polite knock on the door.

I confess, I jumped up like a startled gazelle - leaping over the sofa and galloping to my room without a word. I had recognized that knock immediately. Rocky probably thought I was merely startled by the unexpectedness of it (Rocky was not a fellow who had visitors often) but - being that I am telling this after the fact - I can tell you he was mildly surprised when he opened the door to find Jeeves and a couple he didn't immediately recognize standing outside. 


	2. Corky's New Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeeves has shown up with an old friend of Bertie's

I hoped Rocky had the presence of mind to stall Jeeves long enough for me to throw on my clothes. I got out of my pajamas and into the proper outer crust the fastest I had since my boyhood days at Eton - I gave that Greek chap that ran the first marathon something to work towards. I was halfway through buttoning my shirt when the polite knock I had been dreading came. "Jeeves?" I said, frozen in mid-button. 

"Sir?" came the response. And, like that, the tension I'd felt dissipated. I realized I had -  what's the word? - regressed. I had regressed back to childhood and was acting like I had pimples and short pants. He wasn't a nosy aunt or a headmaster. The worst he could do was quit - though the idea of having to do without Jeeves' professional guidance made me feel weak in the knees, I would not be a serf in my own life. If I chose to sleep in rather later than was my wont, I should be allowed the occasional indulgence. He didn't know I'd awoken and breakfasted (with some warmed cold cuts and slightly burnt eggs) almost an hour ago - perhaps, I decided, I had only recently awoken.

So it was a much calmer Bertie Wooster that told Jeeves to come in, admittedly while kicking a worse-for-the-wear pair of mint green pajamas under the bed. Jeeves automatically moved in to assist me with my remaining toilette and I chatted with him about this and that (the hunt for a place went "very well, sir" and Jeeves had sent the telegram with the address on it "Yesterday, sir.")

"How many days have I been here?" I asked absently.

Jeeves' mouth twitched a bit.

"One day, sir."

"Well, to what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected visit, Jeeves?" I couldn't exactly needle the man for not telegramming me in advance while I still hadn't checked for messages, but one does expect a little privacy when one makes it clear that is what the doctor ordered.

"My apologies, sir. Mr. Corcoran..."

"Corky? Corky with the Baby blob is here? How is he doing these days? Has he managed to successfully avoid the lute business?"

"Yes, sir - jute, sir. Mr. Corcoran has employment through a variety of publications for his comic work and makes a regular income designing art for small novelty items."

"But, why is he here? That's the question." 

"As I was saying, sir, Mr. Corcoran was going to come on his own after having found Mr. Todd's address in the records of a shared publisher and I convinced him my presence would be of assistance."

"Ah, now we're getting down to the nub. Why is Corky so desperate to see me he'd take the train..."

"He drove, sir."

"Drive, then, all the way to Long Island? I'm touched, but I didn't think he was quite so attached." 

"Perhaps, sir, it would best to enter the sitting room and ask Mr. Corcoran yourself." 

"I suppose you're right, Jeeves." I see something catch his eye and a certain coolness entered his air. For a panicked moment I was convinced I'd left out something that made my activities with Rocky impossible to ignore.  However, following his eyeline I realize he's looking directly at my little souvenirs. He cleared his throat.

"Are these items Mr. Todd's, sir?" he asked rather pointedly.

I saw I needed to flex the employer muscles and checked the Wooster cuffs a bit before responding. "No, Jeeves, they're mine."

"Have you done some shopping, sir?" He seemed wounded.

"I met a fellow on the train on the way up here. He had purchased excessively from one of those dude ranches to the left of New York somewhere and was looking for a fellow soul to alleviate some of his burden.  Something of a Good Samaritan to assist him with the load of life. I figure it would make a nice fancy dress costume, what?"

"Indeed, sir." And that, as they say, was that.

I entered the living room properly dressed to find Corky energetically talking to Rocky. But what really got my attention was a pretty girl who was wrangling a small terrier. The terrier was taking a rather sinister interest in a trunk under the window. Corky broke away from Rocky to introduce me to the girl while Jeeves shimmered off.

"Bertie, let me introduce you to my intended, Miss Catherine Jones. Kitty, this is my friend Bertie Wooster"

"Pleased to meet you, Miss Jones."

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Wooster." She said in turn, "My friends call me Kitty."

"Well, my friends call me Bertie."

She giggled. Watching Corky goofily grin at her confirmed my suspicions. Corky had finally put the old heart back together again. As we performed the necessary small talk, I used the opportunity to drink her in. She was smallish - petite might be the word, with a mouth that appeared to naturally fall into a _moue._  I would have thought that after his previous experience, he would have gone for a girl with a bit more of the sergeant major in her, but Kitty was everything the former Mrs Corky-to-be was and a bit more. Kitty was the absolute portrait of the drooping, murmuring type of girl - I can't hold having a type against the fellow. She was an absolute pippin.

"Little Bikki needs to potty." she said regretfully, "I'm going to take her for a little walk outside."

Rocky, who had been staring off dreamily, started a bit and jumped up, "Let me walk your dog. I've been having a problem with hunters who think this is public land and there are areas where its not safe."

"Oh, no. I need to be the person to take her, if I don't, she'll whine and whine."

"I'll walk with you, then. We'll leave Corky and Bertie to chew the fat a bit." The girl seemed to have awoken some chivalrous spirit in Rocky, he not only offered to walk with the girl but took Bikki's leash as they walked out the door together.

"I didn't realize you knew Rocky!" Corky exclaimed as they left, "We went to school together. We weren't in the same grade, but we were in a lot of the same clubs. I still see him on occasion when he comes to the city."

What a small city New York can be, sometimes.

"Was he a hermit back then, too?" I was a bit excited to get some outside poop on Rocky.

"Oh and how! A real Luddite, too. Honestly, Bertie, I like you but if there was anyone I'd think would be one of Rocky's least favorite people it would be you."

"Ah, well..." I wasn't quite sure what to say to this. Rocky and I didn't really dwell on the differences between us.

"What did you think of her?" Corky had fortunately not noticed my discombobulation and moved onto the nub, as it were.

"She is gorgeous. An absolute angel."

"Isn't she though?"

"She's perfect for you. Did she heal the old broken heart?"

"She rebuilt the ticker anew, Bertie. I can visit my uncle and see my little cousin without a blush and greet my dear aunt with equanimity."

"And it sounds like you're doing okay on the financial front? No jute for old Corky, what?"

"It makes my old allowance look like the pittance it was."

"And the girl? She shares feelings warmer than ordinary friendship?"

"She dotes on me, Bertie. Absolutely dotes on me."

"Well, then what's the problem bringing you to the doorstep, old man? Surely you didn't come with a girl on one arm and Jeeves on the other all the way to Long Island to gloat about your good fortune?"

"The problem is the girls father. She doesn't want to get married without his permission..."

"Ah, and he is one of those hard old fellows who says to himself this comic business is a temporary gig and in a few years Kitty and their brood will be back in the fold, what?"

"Not quite... The problem is her father is dead."

"That does tend to throw a wrench into the works." I acknowledged,  "In fact it seems almost insurmountable. What do you say, Jeeves?"

I had forgotten Jeeves wasn't in the room but Jeeves poked his head around the kitchen doorway.

"I must confess, sir, to being similarly befuddled until Mr. Corcoran explained further."

"Ah, continue on, then."

"Kitty's parents are spiritualists." Corky began,  "Her father left very specific instructions in his will that his daughters are to hire a respected medium to ask his permission before getting married."

"I read a book about Spiritualism once - I was buying a book in a hurry before an unexpected trip and thought I was buying a new Holmes novel. Put me to right to sleep. Of course, if the fellow who created Sherlock Holmes thought it was the thing, there might be something to it."

"Well, there aren't many respected mediums available for public hire in New York City, unfortunately. Most of them are con artists - one I was in contact with directly offered to have Kitty's 'father' agree to the marriage for fifty dollars."

"It must have been tempting..."  I commiserated.

"Not at all, Bertie. Well, a little." he conceded, "But she truly believes in this stuff. I couldn't do that to her. I had to do some smooth talking but I finally managed to convince her mother to let us use a spirit board."

"Its seems to me," I noted, "the thing to do is to buy a spirit board and get the family members in front of it as quickly as possible."

"There's the problem." There was a curl of sourness in his tones, "for the spirit board to work properly you have to have alternating male-female pairings. No one I know will touch the thing. Either they don't believe in it at all and won't lower themselves or they take it too seriously and are convinced that we're going to call some sort of demon out of the deep."

"Ah, I see." I replied sagely, still unsure of where this path was leading.

"I was about to put an ad in the newspaper when I heard you were back in the country and I knew you would want to help."

"Help?" I might have started slightly, "You don't mean to ask me to be one of the fellows in front of the spirit board?"

"You aren't superstitious, are you?"

"Ha!" I laughed lightly, "Hardly. However, I have so many relatives that have passed I'll make any séance a party line."

"No spirits will come unless they're invited. I'm pretty sure that's one of the rules."

"If you think they won't come unless invited, then you don't know my family."

"Its just a spirit board, Bertie. Just letters on a board - nothing that can hurt you. Listen, its so quiet here - Rocky's cottage is perfect for this. You and Rocky can fill in to pair with Lizzy (that's Kitty's sister) and Mrs. Jones. We light a couple of candles, ask to speak to Mr. Jones, get his yes and I have the license already bought. I don't blame you for what happened with my uncle..."

"Say no more, old man...." I figured I had one chance to get out of this- Rocky would never invite people he didn't know well to his home, "But you'd have to ask Rocky..."

"That's my boy. Well, speak of the devil..." Rocky and Kitty had returned with little Bikki - now that Bikki had visited the local tree she took much more a more sociable interest in her surroundings and immediately decided Wooster was just the thing.

I piddled with Bikki while Corky made sure Rocky was up to date on the latest.  Kitty was a talkative girl, frequently throwing in her loose change. Rocky seemed to mainly do a lot a nodding so it was hard to tell how much he was following.

"So you, and three girls? I don't exactly have the space for everyone to spend the night here," Rocky started.

"You don't have to worry about that," Corky quickly explained "I have an automobile that seats 4. I can take Jeeves back with me and return with the ladies tonight."

I quickly saw a flaw in the plan.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but don't we need someone here to write down the spirit's letters?"

"He's right, darling." Kitty threw in. "There needs to be someone to write down what the spirits say."

"If Jeeves might need to stay overnight, there's still a servant's quarters attached to the kitchen." Rocky surprised me by seeming to encourage this Jeeves staying here scheme. "I don't know how livable it is anymore. I haven't even opened the door since I've moved in."

"I took the liberty of examining the kitchen and servant's quarters." Jeeves interjected, shimmering into the room. "The rooms are serviceable with a bit of cleaning. The kitchen contains a table and several chairs that would work well for the séance. I would need Mr. Wooster's leave to delay preparations for his flat in New York for another day."

"That's fine, Jeeves." Rocky must be laying out the spadework to look helpful when so when he inevitably says no, there can be no stain on his character. There was absolutely no way he was going to agree to this.

"You don't mind do you, Rocky?" Corky finally asked.

"Bertie was just yesterday talking to me about the importance of helping out your friends from school." He shot me a look, "I don't see how I could say no."

There was hand shaking and a couple of kisses on the cheek (from Kitty, naturally) and I said "Right ho."  But the old heart wasn't in it. We Woosters have little thought of self, but it would have been nice if Mr. Todd hadn't suddenly decided to take on our example.

Kitty suggested we all take dinner together as Jeeves declared the kitchen operational. We all agreed that was the best plan - Jeeves had naturally already made up a shopping list. 

"Shopping lists are fine and dandy, Jeeves, but its miles to the nearest corner store." I noted.

"I can drive him, Bertie." Corky volunteered cheerfully, "I'm already putting you and Rocky out with all this. Its the least I can do."

Kitty stayed to chat as Bikki curled up beside her for a little doggy nap.

Kitty did most of the chattering. A charming enough girl though a little odder than she first appeared. She had many strongly held opinions regarding newspaper comics. I'm unclear if this was Corky's original appeal or if she felt like she needed to be an expert on the finer qualities of  _Felix the Cat_ vs _Krazy Kat_ for his sake. It seems in her opinion the latter wins by a mile and has gotten a grip on the thing Wagner was reaching for in something or another.  Rocky was unused to feminine chatter and jumped ship early on - presumably leaving to check on his anthill.

When she stopped for a breath, I took my chance.

"I must confess to being a little nervous, Miss Jones."

"Kitty, please."

"I've never been to a séance or used a spirit board before, Kitty. I have a lot of relatives in the great beyond."

"I've been to a few séances, Mr. Wooster."

"Bertie, please."

"I've been to several séances, Bertie and I've never seen an unwanted spirit burst through. There might be someone unexpected - particularly if you don't have anyone specific in mind. But we do, so we'll almost certainly just hear from my father. At worst, my grandfather might come in to speak on his behalf."

"That's a relief, I suppose."

"Of course, it can happen. If they have an urgent message. But I've never seen it happen. But then, I've never used a spirit board before so we'll have to see."

My mind was still unsettled on the subj. when Corky returned with Jeeves.  We settled on a time for dinner and Corky went off arm in arm with Kitty and her dog, while Jeeves took his purchases to the kitchen.

"What do you think of all this spirit nonsense, Jeeves?" I called through the doorway and he appeared in the doorway, cleaning cloth in hand.

"On the one hand, sir, I'm inclined to dismiss it. There are many frauds and those willing to take advantage. But, on the other..." Jeeves looked off at the distance, a strangely wistful look in his eye, "through a previous employer of mine, I had the opportunity to speak to a medium who very vividly described an intimate friend of mine who had passed in the Great War. She had information no one else could have known. She passed on a message that offered me great comfort."

"More on heaven and earth, eh Jeeves?"

"There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy."

"That's the gag. I bet whatshisname showed Horatio a few home truths."

"Indeed, sir."

"You wouldn't happen to have that mediums number around, would you Jeeves?"

"It was many years ago, sir."

"No, of course not. But it was worth asking." 

"If that will be all, sir..." 

"Wait a moment - now, I'm not objecting necessarily, but I would have been home tomorrow afternoon on the train. I know you have regrets with what happened with Corky's previous intended but bringing him here seems a bit much."

"I'm very sorry, sir. Mr. Corcoran was quite determined to come to Long Island to speak to you as quickly as possible and I thought it best if I accompanied him."

"It's quite all right, old man. What I want to know is, how did he find out I was in America?"

Jeeves got a strange look on his face for a moment.

"I couldn't say, sir. I will pack a lunch for you and Mr. Todd, if you would like to have a picnic outside."

"That is just the thing the doctor ordered, Jeeves. I was just thinking I was feeling a bit hollow."

"I'll make up a basket, sir."

I looked through one of Rocky's scrapbooks while waiting for Jeeves to make up our lunch. By the time he came out with a basket, I felt so hollow I could ring like a bell.

"Thank you, Jeeves"

Jeeves didn't hand over the necessary, immediately.

"Sir, I was wondering if you wanted to return to the city with me, tomorrow."

I hadn't considered this. The normal Wooster-Todd activities would be naturally curtailed by the presence of Jeeves and Jones' and Corky, of course. I was split. More than two days in the wilderness was a trying task, but I had been so looking forward more time with dear Rocky.

"Why don't we see how the spirit board wheeze works out? I might need to go back to New York for a bit of peace and quiet."

Jeeves relinquished the basket and I carried it out to see where Rocky had gone off to.

 


	3. The Message

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Various messages are sent and received

I found Rocky squatting moodily by his favorite anthill, the finely chiseled screwed up in thought. I didn't disturb him -  sitting out in the wilderness watching ants isn't my top choice of activity but I'm not one to tell other people how to spend their time.  I sat as close to the ants as I dared and I was champing through my first sandwich before he realized I had arrived with refreshments.

"Does England create and export fellows like Jeeves on the regular?" Rocky's map quickly turned from pensive to welcoming, but I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something on his mind.

"Not that I'm aware of. I'm pretty sure Jeeves was a one and done proposition. Why? Have you decided you want to put one on order?"

"He reminds me of a man my father hired years ago."

Rocky took a sandwich and a thoughtful bite.

"I didn't realize you knew Corky." It was difficult to imagine Rocky as a schoolboy. He seemed the type of chap that was born of thought.

"I'm pretty sure there were a few Corky's at school. I think one of them looked like him. He seemed to remember me. Didn't he paint... nudes?"

"No!" I shouldn't have been surprised. Rocky tended to live in his own world. "He is more of portrait painter. Of course," I acknowledged, "I don't know everything he did in his spare time."

"So, that girl isn't his model?" Rocky was trying to put this together.

"She's his intended! Weren't you paying attention?"

"Not really... so what did I agree to other than Jeeves staying in my kitchen?"

"We're going to have a séance with a spirit board in your house because its so isolated and quiet. You're going to be paired with her mother or her sister because the spirits are sticklers for symmetry and only arrive if there are an equal number of men and women. What did you think you were agreeing to?"

"I thought they were going to do a painting of some sort. Seemed odd they wanted to come so late and Jeeves had to stick around. " Rocky thoughtfully tossed a bit of his sandwich to the ants. "This is all your fault, you know."

"My fault?" I started to choke a bit but managed to get it down with a drink from the friendly bottle Jeeves placed in the basket. "Its your house, Rocky."

"They're your friends. You're my guest. Was I supposed to say no?"

"Yes. That's exactly what you were supposed to do." The fellow needed to learn to stand up to people occasionally.

"Well, next time give me a wave or wink or something." Rocky leaned back and grabbed the bottle from me irritably. "I thought I was doing what you wanted." After a few gulps, he added. "What beastly ordeal have I signed up for?"

I explained about Corky and Miss Jones being engaged and needing her dead father's permission to get married.

"So much effort for such little purpose." He shook the lemon. 

"She's very pretty, Rocky. I wouldn't expect you to understand...." I bit my lip. This wasn't something we discussed.

"And why are you so eager to see Corky get married?" He cocked his eyebrow suggestively - a suggestion I chose to ignore.

"I... might have been indirectly responsible for his previous intended flying the coop." It still gave me a pang to remember, even after all this time.

"Ohohohoho.... I bet that is quite a story." 

"One I'll tell you another time - there's no reason for me to be bandying a woman's name." We Woosters are nothing if not chivalrous.

"I suppose I should ask why they showed up here, but it was only a matter of time before Jeeves found some reason to show up." 

"Wha..." is what I said, though what I meant to say was "What do you mean?" but Rocky was only taking a breath.

"I was ready for him, though." Rocky continued getting rather aggravated, "I bet he wasn't expecting me to have already thought about the servants quarters in the kitchen. I bet he thought he had a reason to spirit you back to New York."

"What do you mean?" I finally got out.

"I don't want you to be upset, Bertie, but when I was staying at your flat in New York he told me that if he had reason to believe I was imposing myself on you, he'd take measures."

"You were living in my flat and wearing my clothes. You were already imposing!"

"No, my boy, I think he meant  _imposing._ "

Its a difficult thing to explain but somehow he said this last word in a way that implied something other than wearing the young master's clothes - something sinister.

"Oh, ah..." I replied.

"Don't worry, Bertie. I made it clear I appreciated him watching out for you."

I knew Jeeves was of the hide-bound old school of thinking, but the idea he might be prepared to obtusely... is obtuse the word I mean? Obstinately? Obliquely. Obliquely threaten someone he saw as a threat to the young master pleased me strangely.  Jeeves could be difficult to read at times, and to take measures like this showed a proper fondness. I was struggling to not seem to take this matter too lightly and this might have come across as consternation.

"Don't be upset with Jeeves. I'm not." Rocky took another thoughtful chunk of sandwich. "He's from the generation where that's how you treat men like me. Personally, I approve of his intent if not his methods." He threw a wink at me, then indicated the crumb he'd thrown to the ants. "Look at this little fellow," he intoned, "Considers this bit of sandwich manna of the gods. Look at him take a bit and run off with it back to the anthill."

I got into the spirit of the thing.

"He does seem excited, doesn't he?" I tried on an ant voice, " _The prophecy has been fulfilled - our daily bread has come."_

"But, this one," he points to another ant walking away from the bread, "he's the adventurer. He says, 'Maybe there's more of this.' Should we reward him, Bertie?"

"Wait until I'm done eating. I might want some of that."

I had lost the thread of our conversation at that point. When I decided that I'd eaten my fill Rocky threw down his remaining sandwich and settled in to watch them deconstruct it. I kept myself occupied gathering wildflowers and making a flower crown while chatting about this and that. I was in the middle of a flower cuff, when Rocky seemed to come back to the world the rest of us lived in.

"I'm sorry, Bertie.  I forget how bored you get. I wish you played a musical instrument. It would give you something to do."

"Something portable, I would think. A piano wouldn't last long out here - the termites would probably think you were leaving them a snack. I learned to play a recorder at Malvern House, but a fellow can only hear _Greensleeves_ so many times before it becomes tiresome."

Rocky drank in an eyeful of my flower work.

"You're going to get me horsewhipped out of town, darling."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I'm not going to be able to keep my hands off of you."

I smiled, "You should watch yourself while Jeeves is here. But I don't think he'd horsewhip you out of town, necessarily."

"No, probably not.  Tell me more about what's going on with you. Feel free to repeat yourself, I find your voice soothing."

That's what I like about spending time around Rocky. He always makes me feel welcome. I made him a flower crown to match while I told him about Bingo and Aunt Agatha - stories that anyone familiar with the archives would probably recognize. I might have repeated some of what I had told him the previous day. I couldn't shake the impression there was something weighing on Rocky's mind as he sat watching the ants take his crust of cold cuts and bread apart.  After watching him for some time, I decided to do the manly thing and ask.

"What's going on, Rocky?"

Rocky blew his cheeks out with a sigh that seemed to come from the c. of his b.

"Theo Parsons is going on." He finally replied.

"The name is closed book to me." I confessed.

"Glad to hear it. He decided he wanted to own my land. Thought it would be easy to buy me out, assumed I was some sort of rube who didn't know the value of the land he lived on. Montague Todd didn't raise me to not know the value of a dollar. I might, as you've noted before, not lock my door because I figure anyone willing to break into my house to get something needs it more than I do, but that doesn't mean I'm going to give up my land like its nothing. Once he realized I knew what I was doing, he offered me double its value. I told him not at any price."

"Good for you!" I enthused.

"Not so good for me. Since I won't give up the land at any price, he's been trying to run me off it. He's insinuated himself onto various influential groups around here and has been giving barn busting speeches on the subject of 'What kind of man lives by himself in the woods'."

"Golly."

"Golly is right. I feel persecuted, Bertie. I took that girl with Corky out on a walk around my property in the hopes it would calm down some of the talk.  Its the first time I've done anything like that since the Navy." He wilted a bit in shame. "Parsons is causing me trouble and watching for me to do something in public he can use to leverage against me."

"Maybe we should go back inside." I didn't want to cause him trouble.

"No, they'll notice that too."

"Are you sure you're not being paranoid or giving yourself a complex?"

"I hope so. I like being here. It suits me. I grew up summering here. People used to see me coming into the corner store for tobacco and necessities and they'd say 'That's little Rocky. I've known him since he was so high and he doesn't bother anyone.' - now they say, 'Who is this fellow? Why does he live all alone?' The world is changing, Bertie. I don't know where I'd go if I had to leave."

"You should mention it to Jeeves. He might come up with something."

"I appreciate the thought, darling, but this is something I need to deal with on my own."

Rocky then went back to studying his ants. I tried to think of something to help but the land of nod called. I laid down on a soft bit of moss and it seemed like I only closed my eyes for a moment before opening them again in a strange room.

It bore some resemblance to Rocky's sitting room but the room had been rearranged slightly to accommodate a table and chairs. I recognized the feel of Rocky's ancient couch under me, but it was covered by an unfamiliar blanket. If you've ever dreamed of a place you're familiar with, you know the sort of feeling I mean - a strangely disconnected feeling. Reality suddenly felt as "the sway of the earth shaking like a thing unfirm". I could hear a radio playing some music that the announcer said was from the _Heigh Ho Club_. As far as I knew, Rocky didn't own a radio. In fact, Rocky would find everything about what this particular radio was playing extremely objectionable. But there it was. 

I half expected some stranger to appear and demand to know what I was doing in their home, so when I realized there was a loudly whispered conversation occurring I quickly re-closed my eyes.

It was the sudden "Shhhhhhhhhhhhh!" that first attracted my attention. An amateur mistake made by a person unused to avoiding being heard, so most likely it was Rocky. I didn't hear footsteps but I felt the air around me move. I kept my breathing deep and even and Jeeves - it had to be him because only Jeeves could move so silently - seemed satisfied, but the whispering moved into the kitchen where I only heard the phrase 'youthful indiscretions' before the music on the radio drowned the rest out.

At this point it seemed silly to continue playing possum. Once I'd blinked the sleep out of my head, I looked around in the rosy fingered sunset.  The little cottage was the cleanest I'd ever seen it to the point of being unrecognizable, even without the mild rearranging. Rocky was hardly a slob - he picked up after himself and had a girl who came in to give the place a deep cleaning once a month but Jeeves had a touch for making things seem cleaner.

Even being reasonably sure this was indeed Rocky's little cottage, it was still something of a relief when Rocky emerged from the kitchen.

"I couldn't bring myself to wake you up so I brought you in here. Jeeves really did a number on this room, didn't he?" 

"Its almost unrecognizable."

"I had to go back outside to make sure I didn't get lost and enter the wrong place." 

"Did Jeeves conjure this up as well?" I indicated the radio. It was an older number that looked like a boy scout project, made out of an old file box with a gramophone trumpet making the broadcast audible.

"Oh, this thing." he shook the lemon,  "No, I had it siting in a closet. It was my father's prize possession. He loved the thing, tinkered with it all of the time. I couldn't bring myself to axe it like I should have." He started getting excited speaking louder, "Every one of these deserve to be axed. These... _things_ are going to be the death of culture and individuality. People are all going to be walking around with radios strapped to their heads, only listening to what the sponsors tell them to hear."

"Rocky." I said softly.

This only seemed to work him up more.

"We're all going to be serfs! Serfs to the powers that be that will only let us listen to pap, predigested pap, and artists who create anything of real quality and substance will starve..."

" _Rocky!"_ I said with more emphasis. "Why is the radio here?"

"Oh!" he lowered his voice, "we can use it tonight so we can talk privately without Jeeves hearing."

An excellent idea, one that showed cunning and intelligence. I put this tidbit into the back of my mind. I considered using the cover of radio to let Rocky know I heard him and Jeeves talking and see if I could find out anything further, but a knock at the door shortly made those plans bust.

Rocky immediately cut the radio and ran to look out the window muttering to himself that they were early. The knock happened again and Jeeves was at the door before Rocky had finished looking.

Normally there'd be nothing I'd love more than to give my friend, his future Mrs. and her family dinner. But the plans I had for these days were in tatters at my feet; the presence of Jeeves and the coming presence of Corky and the Jones' felt strangely intrusive. The earth swaying feeling from having just woken up, didn't help.

Mrs. Jones entered first - she was smallish like the daughter I'd met, but significantly less petite. She was not what I imagined a Spiritualist to be - I imagined more of an older drippier version of Kitty wearing oriental styled robes with a kind aged face. Instead, Mrs. Jones looked like the kind of woman who had a small box filled with various creams that had to be applied every morning to keep her face _in situ._ She wore the sort of hat and coat that tends to shed everywhere and had the same _moue_ as Kitty. It had aged into a permanent expression of displeasure. That, along with her auntish air and sharp penetrating eyes made her look like an over-groomed Persian cat. 

"I appreciate your hospitality, young man...." She looked hopefully from me to Rocky trying to figure out who her host was. Rocky was never one for the social niceties so I stepped in.

"Right ho," I said, "Corky is a wonderful fellow and I'm always glad to do him a good turn. Hopefully Mr. Jones will have gotten a good look at how much Corky loves your daughter and have no problem giving the old permish."

She sniffed, haughtily.

"We will see what Charles thinks of this hot love on the wing."

"Oh, I recognize that - that's Shakespeare isn't it? Yes, yes... more to the sway of the earth, than is dreamed of in your unfirm philosophy, Caesar." This statement didn't seem to endear me to her. While we had this conversation, a young shrimp had entered and on these final words let out a squeal.

"Whyyyyyyyy didn't you tell me he was English, Kitty? Oh, listen to him, isn't he adorable?" This bouncing creature was presumably Kitty's sister, Lizzy. She must take more after her father as she was already a good head taller than either her mother or her sister. She seemed the sporty type, with a bright cheerful face for a girl who was getting ready to speak with her dead father.

"Lizzie, control yourself." Kitty playfully slapped at her sister as she followed in, _sans_ Bikki. "I'm sorry, she can't get enough of all things English."

Odd thing about American women - when they realize I'm British, they are usually either strangely disturbed or immediately charmed - sometimes, like the younger Miss Jones, they are both. Mrs. Jones gave me a rummy look that made me suspect she was of the former category.

"How long have you been in America, Mr. ...."

"Wooster. Bertram Wooster. You can call me Bertie of you like."

"Mr. Wooster, then."

"Just got off the boat a day or two ago." I said to make conversation. She grunted slightly as if to suggest those were days that hurt her, personally. "This is Rocky Todd," I indicated him with a wave of the hand, "This is his home but he's... rather shy so I'm taking on hosting duties."

Lizzie was standing uncomfortably close to me, a big smile on her face while Mrs. Jones looked at the flower crown that Rocky had set on the radio as if it were poison. Charming woman.

Jeeves came in and coughed like a sheep on a distant hill.

"Dinner will be served shortly." 

"Oh, we've already eaten." Mrs. Jones said firmly, "I didn't realize how far out in the middle of nowhere we'd be. I think its best we get in touch with Charlie and move on. Where is that boy?"

On cue, Corky staggered through the door with a box in hand that presumably contained the much anticipated spirit board.

"We had a late lunch." Corky said apologetically. I didn't see how they could have driven back to New York, lunched and returned again before it was properly dark but I let it go.

"It looks like you'll need to clear the table for the séance, Jeeves - Rocky and I will eat after our guests have departed."

"Yes, sir."

Jeeves cleared off the table,  while Lizzy continued to give me the sticketh closer than a brother treatment.

"He has a butler! Oh, how perfect!" Before I could correct the child on her misapprehension she started making demands. "Say,  _Elementary, dear Watson."_ I hope she didn't plan on making me into her personal radio, but I wanted to keep the peace so I did as I was asked, and was immediately rewarded with another batch of earbusting squeals. I looked to Corky for assistance but he was busy meditating or something in front of the board with his intended. I looked at Rocky and he, the traitor, clearly found the situation quite amusing, though to his credit he did try to hide it behind his hand. Thankfully, Mrs. Jones came and insisted her younger daughter sit at the table with her, giving me a dirty look as if I were _imposing_ on the girl.

"Here's an interesting bit of trivia," I said to no one in particular, "Did you know Sherlock Holmes never said that in the original stories?"

Lizzy gawked at me goofily while the older Jones fussed at her.

"It doesn't matter, Bertie. People think it was." Rocky replied - sounding awfully cheerful for a hermit unwillingly hosting a dinner party. "Besides," he brushed my hip with his hand and dropped his voice to a husky whisper in my earlobe, "your accent is quite adorable."

I might have tutted at him.  

Jeeves quickly cleared the table of its dinner trappings. We all got into place, with Kitty and Corky taking the spots directly in front of the spirit board.  I tried to figure out how to not sit next to either Lizzy or Mrs. Jones somehow, but it was unavoidable. Lizzy batted her lashes and coyly pointed to the empty seat between herself and her sister. Rocky bit the bullet and sat between Mrs Jones (who scooted over when it was clear she had no choice) and Lizzy.

If you've never seen a spirit board this particular one was a board (as one would hope) with the letters of the alphabet written in a fancy-ish writing in the center, a yes in the top left corner, a no its brother on the right. Under the letters was a series of numbers, with "Hello" catty-corner to the no, and "Goodbye" to the other. Kitty placed some white candles at the top two corners.

It had gone from dim to dark during the process of all this so when Jeeves lit the white candles, it gave the room some much needed light.

"Are you going to be able to see the board, Jeeves?" I asked. I could hardly see the board myself.

"Yes, sir. The board is actually quite visible from where I'm standing."

"Will you be able to see clearly enough to write everything?"

"It will not be a problem, sir."

After this was all settled, Kitty explained the procedure.

"We're all going to put one finger lightly on the planchette," she held up what looked like a small wooden table with a hole in the middle. "Lightly being the key word. The spirit will use us to move it where it needs to go and the appropriate letter will show through the window here. I'll do the speaking to the spirit." She turned to Jeeves. "Are you ready?"

"I'm ready, miss."

"Fingers." We each placed a digit on the little table. "By the power of the elements, the angels and our higher selves, I and all users of this board are protected from evil spirits. If there are any spirits that wish to speak to us, signal by moving the planchett in circles or say hello."

For a few tense moments, nothing happened. Then the little table started to move. 

"He's pushing it." Lizzie said accusingly, indicating self.

"I'm not." I insisted. I must confess I was tempted to help old Corky out, but I didn't. I decided the best thing to do was to let this thing play out.

The planchette with stops and starts moved to 'Hello'.

"That means there's a spirit." Lizzy informed me. 

"Is that you, Daddy?" Kitty asked plaintively.

NO. The plachette said.

"Are you a good spirit?"

YES.

"Who are you?"

It moved in circles.

"That means it doesn't want to answer." Kitty noted. "Do you have a message?"

YES

Then quickly it hit B and W and the moment I saw those two letters I suspected something I would find unpleasant was about to happen.

The spirit chose its letters quickly and firmly went to "GOODBYE"

"Goodbye and thank you for your time." Kitty said politely. "Have you got the message?"

"Yes, miss. But I don't believe it was a message from your father."

"Well, tell us. We're dying to know, what was it?" Lizzy was an excitable girl.

Jeeves cleared his throat.

"It reads, BW WRITE UR SIS. 'Your' is spelled with a UR but I believe that was the.... sir?"

I had risen without realizing it. I might have been trembling.

"Bertie, are you alright?" I heard a voice say as if they were at the end of a tunnel.

"That's not funny!" I said, a bit more sharply than I intended. The room was starting to swim in front of my eyes. "I don't know whose idea this was, but its not funny." I ran outside before I burst into tears.

My eyes were already pretty well adjusted to the dark from the room so I didn't have any major issues with finding my way to the back of the cottage. It wasn't until I stopped at a tree stump that it occurred to me to wonder what to do next. I realized I'd made an ass of myself in front of several people I didn't know. No one wants to re-enter a room that they just left fighting back tears.

Fortunately, Rocky followed me out after I had a moment to get the eyes a bit drier.

"Hey... Bertie, are you ok?"

"I've been better."

"Just so you know, none of us knows what that message means. No one was making fun of you."

"I know. I'm so embarrassed." I'll confess here that some of the manly tears returned. Rocky settled me onto the stump and sat with me a few moments.

"Have I ever told you about my parents?" he asked. He had not and I indicated this with a shake of the bean that he had to have felt more than seen. "They separated when I was pretty young. They finished the job while I was in the Navy. I went to my mother's after the war and she told me to not come home again unless I had a baby in one arm and a wife in the other."

"Are you sure she wasn't an aunt?" 

"I'm pretty sure." 

I didn't say anything for a while.

"What about your father?" I finally asked.

"My father didn't care about anything that didn't make or cost him money." Rocky chuckled a bit, I could feel the sound rumbling through his body. "No, I'm doing him an injustice. He bought the land. Put the cabin in my name with a few small accounts so I'd have something if he got into legal trouble. Which is exactly what happened. I try to visit him at the pen, when I can." He cleared his throat, "Bertie, people like..." he hesitated, then seemed to decide, "people like me, we have to make our own families. If, for some reason, you don't want to or feel like you can't talk to your sister, its okay."

I considered this.

"Its... the message...that was the last telegram my parents sent me."

"The spirit board message?"

"Yes. Of course, you didn't know. I don't think anyone knows. My sister was almost a decade older, but the governor wanted us to stay close. They'd telegram all of the time _wri_ _te your sister._  because they thought if they didn't I'd forget." I remembered I had a handkerchief in my pocket and cleared the nose a bit. "I haven't written her since I graduated Oxford. There was no dramatic estrangement, if that's what you're thinking. I don't know what to write. I send birthday cards and presents for my little nieces, and she writes a Christmas letter she sends to me..."

"It tough to stay in touch with people in different countries..." Rocky said with sympathy.

"What if my parents were waiting for a chance to tell me this? What if they're sitting there in the great beyond, shaking their heads at me? Maybe my Aunt Agatha is right, and I'm a.... disappointment to them?"

I knew Rocky would say I wasn't because what else could he say? But it was still nice to hear.

"Of course not. You know, Bertie, I remember reading something about these spirit boards. There's a theory that they tell you the things you have on your mind."

"I wasn't pushing it, if that's what you're saying. "

"No, more like the things you don't realize you're thinking." I looked at him doubtfully. "How about I help you write a letter to your sister? I've been told I write a good letter or two." 

He poked at me a bit teasingly.

"I'm not exactly the most prolific correspondent, am I?" I admitted with a touch of embarrassment.

"You're more of a talker than a writer, Bertie. There's nothing wrong with that. We'll just have to work with it."

There was a cough behind me I recognized as belonging to Jeeves.

"Sir, are you.."

Jeeves was interrupted by an explodey sound. 

"Oh, no." Rocky said jumping up. "No... Not tonight." He turned to me. "Go back inside, Bertie." 

I smelled smoke. He ran to the cottage and I ran after him in such a hurry I ended up outstripping him by several steps.  Going around the house, I was blinded by what seemed to be a small sun. It reminded me of a time when I was a lad in sailor suits and some egg dared me to stare straight up at high noon. I couldn't see right for several hours and got a few of the best for not being able to answer a math problem on the chalkboard. For a moment I thought Corky's automobile had caught on fire.  But after closing my eyes for a moment and shading with my hand I could finally see that it was a tall object of some sort burning in the middle of the road. If I were to ascribe a shape to it, I would say it was shaped like a cross.

"Goddamn cowards!" Rocky shouted, throwing in a few other terms he probably learned in the Navy. He seemed to see me, again. "Go inside, Bertie!"

Jeeves apparated beside me. "May I be of assistance?"

"Yes." Rocky said distractedly, "Take Bertie inside."

"I believe," Jeeves said gently "Mr Todd would like you to go inside, sir."

"I picked up on that." I noted astutely.

A good fire can be entertaining - this was probably the most exciting thing to happen on Long Island I've seen so far.  I only turned towards the cottage with reluctance. But I was prevented from returning by Mrs. Jones standing in Rocky's doorway staring at the burning object with awe.

"Its a message!" she announced sagely. Kitty and Lizzy followed her out with amazement written on their maps, Corky following shortly thereafter. "Charlie wants us to get a proper medium. He has something he wants to tell us! Take us home."

"The automobile wasn't damaged, was it?" Corky immediately ran to examine his vehicle which he had parked a bit away in a clearing.

After establishing the vehicle was unharmed, Corky pulled it as close as he dared while Jeeves and I escorted the ladies by the light of the fire. When we returned Rocky was running up with a dripping blanket. 

"The best thing to do is let it burn itself out, but I want to make sure nothing else catches on fire. Go back inside, Bertie."

Finally, with only the greatest reluctance, I did.

 


	4. Fancy Dress

"Normally, the Wooster memory is a steel trap."

"Indeed, sir?"

Jeeves and I were enjoying a brisk hike to the train station on a fine blue skied day. Usually Rocky and I take the opportunity to walk and chat a bit but since Jeeves was here Rocky slept in.  

"However that unusually excellent wine seemed to have gotten to my head. I remember the spirit board. I remember having dinner in a general sense."

I also remembered what Rocky and I did after dinner. You don't realize how things are different until they are. I mean, I never have had to be "quiet" with Rocky, but I always had to be quiet in London so I didn't realize what a thrill being scared you were going to be heard added to things. Every sound in the bathroom amplified, even with the deadening effect of the shower. The way you can hear your own breathing and the other fellow in your ear and amplified over and over until every little gasp seems to be an eternity of deafening sound.  But clearly, I couldn't talk to Jeeves about this.

"Mr. Todd had an excellent year in his cellar, sir, if you will allow my judgement on such matters."

"Of course, Jeeves. You wouldn't be able to fill in a few blanks, would you?"

"Mr. Todd had his radio playing which I took as a signal that you intended your conversation to be private, sir. But I was personally involved in a few matters in the evening, perhaps it will assist your memory."

"Assist away, Jeeves.  The sun is shining and I have one of your remedies flowing through my veins. Right jolly of you to think of the young master even out in the wilderness."

"I considered it might be necessary after I discovered the wine cellar, sir."

"Rocky might have gone a little too far in trying to make sure I was comfortable."

"Mr. Todd believed you would be more garrulous if you had a drink or two."

"That's right." I remembered that. "For the letter to my dear Jane. You know, she was the bulwark between myself and Aunt Agatha when she was at home?"

"Your sister must have been quite a strong minded young woman."

Jeeves knew from experience that stopping my Aunt Agatha was akin to stopping a hurricane. One could only take cover.

"I like to believe it was passed down through feminine half of the Wooster bloodline, Jeeves. My dear sister is the only person I've seen put Aunt Agatha off the warpath. I suppose a clash between them was inevitable."

"Indeed, sir. One does not wish to stand between two strong willed women."

I'll have to record the epic final battle between my beloved sister and aunt in the future, perhaps when I'm older. Or, more likely, when my Aunt Agatha is in the same state as my late brother-in-law.

"What did I decide to write her about?" I queried, "I don't remember accomplishing anything worth writing about since I won that bike race when I was fourteen. And I only won that with a handicap because the clincher was pulled at the last minute by his older brother."

"Yes, sir. You spoke of that last night. Quite an amusing story, sir."

"The only thing that happened of any significance since Oxford is hiring you."

"You were kind enough to say the same last night, sir." While Jeeves kept his _sang froid_ , I could see he was pleased.

"Aunt Dahlia keeps her updated on the latest in weddings and funerals. Uncle Willoughby published all of the deeper family stories I'd know." 

 "If I may, sir... I noted that you were a fixture at dinner parties for your light and amusing conversation."

"You mean my ability to talk for the length of a meal to anyone who is sitting upright and blinking. I know how to keep my end going most of the time, don't I, Jeeves?"

"Indeed, one might say that sir. Mr. Todd suggested he hypnotize you into believing you were having dinner with your sister and himself and he would take notes on what you said. I believe this, sir, might be responsible for the holes in your memory."

"That would explain the dreams I had all night."

"Dreams, sir?" 

"All night while I slept I perchanced to dream about my sister. Looking just like she did when she was a lovely girl with blonde curls. Showing her around New York. She would love it and I imagine the girls would, too."

"Indeed, sir?"

"Just a thought, Jeeves. You didn't happen to overhear what I told my dear sister, did you?"

"You told the inner story of a family matter you knew most intimately - the matter of Mr. George Wilson?" he cleared his throat delicately. He meant, of course, Gussie of the Mannering-Phipps persuasion who was, according to his last letter at the time, touring the Northwest with spouse, mother and father-in-law. "It was Mr. Todd's idea, sir."

"Excellent. If anyone can turn my dinner ramblings into a proper letter it is Rocky."

"Yes, sir." There was a little something or other in his voice.

"Was there something else you wished to speak to me about, Jeeves?" I considered that Rocky and I hadn't been as quiet as I thought.

"Sir, do you recall any of our discussion about the fire?"

I had, in fact, mostly forgotten about the impromptu light show.

"I believe Rocky told me it was some sort of prank by a rival club, wasn't it?"

Jeeves flinched slightly.

"Sir, that is a rather severe simplification..."

"Well, complicate it for me."

Jeeves tried, bless him. But even his infinite patience with the Wooster fatheadedness reached its limit and we reached the town proper with the matter still unresolved.

I had asked Rocky about his whispered argument with Jeeves. I tried to remember what Rocky had told me about it but all I could remember was Rocky looking at me - his eyes widened and focused like a cat studying a bit of string. Putting his hand on the Wooster upper cheek, studying the map from north to south - lingering a little too long around the mouth area (Londonish?). Invisible strings between us, pulling us together. The way the radio silenced itself as if the announcer himself felt the tension over the air.  I let the matter go. Whatever they were discussing, Jeeves would mention it in his own time. And, of course, I can always ask Rocky to remind me.

We arrived in town with time to spare. I decided to see if Myrtle was working before going back to New York. She was. She winked at me in a friendly way and I waved back.

"Is this a slow invasion? Are the Brits going to take their own back one by one?"

"You've caught us." I answered back, "Better learn how to make tea properly."

She insisted I have a roast beef sandwich - said the cook had made it just for me. It would have been rude to refuse it, but I insisted on paying even after she told me it was on the house. While I wrapped myself around my sandwich, I noticed her take Jeeves to the side. They spoke too low for me to hear, but she seemed rather distressed. I played like I didn't notice and wrapped up my remaining sandwich for the train ride.

Once we were alone again, I naturally made inquiries.

"I had made her acquaintance when I worked for the elder Mr. Todd.  It is a personal matter, sir. I promise that it is nothing you need to concern yourself about."

"Its not regarding one of your little understandings, is it Jeeves? Some sort of hot love on the wing?" I only intended to tease him a bit, but he stiffened. 

"It is a private matter, sir."

"Speaking of Mr. Todd," I quickly turned the conversation towards the issues with Rocky and Theo Parsons. I was... displeased with how unconcerned he seemed as I explained the issue.

"I'm sorry, sir. I believe the best thing Mr. Todd could do is sell his home for the best price he can get and move elsewhere. There are many isolated places a young man like himself would find welcoming - or at least tolerant."

"I don't think he should have to leave his boyhood home because some club or another took a dislike to him. Will you at least eat some fish and think on it?"

He assented, but I didn't care for his tone.

It was dark when we finally made it to New York proper, where Jeeves and I parted ways. Jeeves returned to finish home preparations and I skipped off to my New York club. They met me with open arms and fraternal backslapping. My days were so full of lunch and dinner invitations that it was almost a week later before I found myself thinking about poor old Rocky, all alone in his little cottage.

"I don't think I could live out in the woods all alone. What do you think, Jeeves?"

"It wouldn't be my preference, sir."

"I suppose it has to suit someone. Otherwise all those little cottages would go to waste."

"As you say, sir."

"I was thinking I should go visit dear old Rocky and finish with this letter wheeze."

"Sir, you might recall Mr. Corcoran was hoping you could meet him for lunch."

"Tell Corky I'm busy. I'll be back in plenty of time for my fancy dress party."

I had, to be honest, been putting off dear Corky. Time had not yet healed the wounds inflicted by that horrid spirit board message.  I wouldn't feel comfortable until I knew my letter was on its way to my sisters hands.

"Very well, sir. Would you care to review your mail before you leave, sir?"

"Of course, did anything of interest come?"

"Just a letter from Mr. Todd, sir."

"Rocky?" I put out my hand, and Jeeves hesitated a moment before handing it to me. Jeeves is so dashed efficient that sometimes its easy to forget the fellow is human. Normally, of course, I'd ask him to read or at least summarize the letter for me. Yes, even Mr. Todd's letters. Rocky is capable of a small level of discretion and I assumed Jeeves viewed his letters as some sort of strange writing exercise full of florid descriptions of the flora and fauna of his home. The envelope wasn't marked private and I decided the wisest course would be to act as I normally would. I handed it back to the man. "Summarize the salient points for me, would you Jeeves?"

He opened the envelope to reveal one single sheet and a bundle of several sheets folded together.

"The longer letter appears to be what he had written for your sister for your review, sir." Jeeves handed it to me. "In this shorter letter, Mr. Todd implores you to not visit his home in Long Island for the time being but writes he will be coming to town in the next few days to meet with some editors if you wish to visit with him in person."

I reviewed the letter to my sister - it was much closer to my exact words than I would have expected. 

"Excellent, Jeeves. Would you like to review my little letter?" I offered it to him.

"That's quite all right, sir. Would you like me to cable a response, sir, or would you rather write Mr. Todd at your convenience?"

Jeeves handed me the single leaf of paper for my perusal.  

"Cable him that he's welcome in the Wooster abode anytime he's in town."

"Right away, sir."

While he attended to this, I examined the letter itself to see if there was anything of interest Jeeves missed. Jeeves had spoken almost word for word what Rocky wrote. Such a short letter was very much unlike Rocky. When it came to the poetry he sold, he wrote as if he got a bonus for saving the printer ink. But in his private letters he tended to extend himself, often sending me letters that I would spend days re-reading in sections. Its possible, of course, his letter writing muse was exhausted by the work he'd been doing on my behalf.

"Not quite his usual stuff."

"No, sir."

"Jeeves, is there nothing to be done?"

"Sir?"

" _In re_  Mr. Todd's issue on Long Island? I've told you about Theo Parsons and how he probably is using his club to harass poor Rocky out of his home."

"Yes, sir. It is most concerning. However, when a young man chooses to live the life that Mr. Todd has chosen, consequences such as this happen. Sir."

"What do you mean, Jeeves? You keep speaking in riddles about this."

"I mean, sir," he paused for a moment, "an aggressively independent lifestyle. People see someone who lives alone, not participating in the community and they make assumptions.  If, Mr. Todd had come to you with his problems earlier I would have suggested positive action in his community. However, I believe in this case it might be wise for Mr. Todd to move somewhere more isolated and take more care in the future."

"More isolated than Long Island? The mind boggles. Does such a place exist?"

"It is a large country, sir.  Will you be lunching with Mr. Corcoran?"

"Oh... all right."

As much as I hated to do it, I knew I had to tell dear Corky no more.

He was, in hindsight, unusually affectionate when we met for lunch. Gave me a big hug for a greeting - I decided he got it from the Spiritualists. He was unusually complimentary as well.

"You are looking well today. Quite... handsome, in fact."

This seemed a bit of a personal comment, but I'm not one to question a good buttering up.

"I finally got some proper sleep. How are you and the intended doing?"

"Fine... fine."

"She wasn't too disappointed about the whole spirit board shenanigans, was she?"

"Oh no... Spiritualists are all about learning. She considered it a great learning experience."

He buttered his roll without paying attention, leaving a zig zaggy pattern that I imagine some Spiritualist would want to read for messages from the dead.

"Sorry about that."  I felt more the wronged party here, but, of course, poor Corky had the greater loss.

"It wasn't your fault. You tried to warn me."

"Right ho..."  

I picked at a roll in turn. I didn't want to dash poor Corky's romantic hopes, but surely there were other pretty Spiritualists with a strange obsession with newspaper comics out there? 

"Kitty was thinking about writing an article about our experience with the spirit board for one of her magazines, I suppose you wouldn't..." his voice trailed off.

"No." I said flatly. "I wouldn't."

"Of course not."

Corky became strangely quiet - we both picked at our rolls until the waiter brought our meals.

 "I do need your help, Bertie." Corky finally blurted, after we had both dug in for a minute.

"Rocky already said you can't use his cottage again..."

"I promise you won't have to be involved in any séance."

 "Well..." 

I did want to help Corky.

"All you have to do is talk to a fellow's daughter. We found a private medium who works for a fellow on Long Island named Theodore Parsons..."

" _Theo Parsons?"_ I was so surprised I almost knocked my glass over.

"Do you know him?"

"Absolutely not and I have no desire to get to know him."

"You wouldn't have to get know him, just his daughter. You're going to Sinclair Montague's party tomorrow, aren't you?"

I confessed I was. I had been looking forward to it, too. Sinclair threw so many parties I think he considered it a sort of hobby.  This one was going to be a fancy dress party and I was planning on wearing my purchases from the fellow I had met at the train station.

"Well his daughter will be there and I was hoping you could tell her about me and Kitty. Play on a girl's natural sense of romance."

"I have no intention on playing on any girl's sense of romance."

"It doesn't have to be like that, Bertie. Just explain the situation to her. These girls who grow up in Spiritualist families tend to be real romantics. She'll probably be begging you to introduce her to Kitty to help us. I'm taking Kitty to a show tomorrow night, and we'll take a ride in the Park afterwards. Take Miss Parsons out for a walk - we'll happen upon you and they'll become great friends and of course she'll have us over to her dad's at Long Island...."

"I want to enjoy myself at Sinclair's party not playing up whatever kind of daughter a fellow like Theo Parsons has."

"Oh, please, Bertie. I know I've asked a lot of you but it would mean so much to Kitty and me...."

And here something odd happened.  The way his voice hit a whining wheeze on these words reminded me of the wheedling tones of Bingo Little when he was trying to convince me and something inside me snapped.

" ** _ABSOLUTELY NOT_**." I might have hit the table for emphasis.

Corky was startled. I, quite honestly, was a little startled myself as a few people from neighboring tables turned to look at us. I quietly paid our checks and Corky asked to walk with me back to my apartment. I was a little embarrassed at my outburst, so I agreed.

Jeeves poured our drinks before shimmering out. Corky took a long drink.

"What if I made helping me worth your while?"

I was going to tell him that he could keep his money when he kissed me. I lost interest in things for a moment. It wasn't the most impressive kiss - my first thought was that if he was giving his girlfriends kisses like this there might be a good reason his previous fiancee would have considered an old man splitting the difference. Corky pulled back and watched me expectantly.

"Why did you do that?" I queried as I wiped my face off with my hankerchief. 

Corky's face fell.

"I misread things, didn't I?"

To be fair to dear old Corky, I should note here that this didn't come out of nowhere. There might have been a bit of pre-fiancee flirting and a bit more than that when I ended up sleeping at his apartment one late night after a party ran too long. I had not been wise with my money that night. I had bet heavily on baseball with way too little knowledge of the game, realizing too late that I no longer had taxi cab money. I hadn't been here long enough to have any credit with the drivers and Corky had no money to lend, naturally. I spent the night in his place and well... Nothing much came of it, but it was a big part of why I hesitated to visit him after the disaster that was my first attempt to help him achieve marital bliss. I didn't want him to think I'd set it up on purpose so I could swoop in.

I decided to take the most tactful route.

"I must confess to being confused, old thing. I thought you were in love with Kitty."

"Oh, I am. She's the dearest girl in the world!"

"So the question is, why am I the one getting her kisses?" 

 "I thought...  Oh, I'm so stupid. I'm sorry, Bertie. I'm so desperate, I would try anything and you'd be right to be offended."

The scales fell from my eyes. 

"You thought that if you.... I...."

I might have done some motions here to illustrate what I meant.

Corky turned red and threw his hands over his face in embassassment.

"I'm such a blister! I don't deserve a sweet girl like Kitty or a friend like you."

"No, no... You're not a blister...."

"I've offended you deeply and all you've done is be my friend." His eyes filled with fluid and I turned away to give him a moment to compose himself. "I shouldn't have listened to Mrs. Jones' gardener. He didn't know what an honorable good chap you are.  Just because you're friends with Rocky Todd...."

"Ah...well..." I cleared my throat and he let it go. He picked up the pieces a bit while I thought. For a split second, I was offended that Corky thought I'd want or even accept favors of this sort. But, then I remembered the way he looked at Kitty.  He had to love that girl a lot to offer himself up like this.

"I'll do it, old thing."

"Oh?" Corky looked at me blankly. "Do you want me to do it now or... no it should be after... but..."

"No, no.... I mean, I'll do it because of how much you love her."

"Oh!" This perked him up tremendously. It reminded me a bouquet of flowers some suitor whom my Aunt Agatha had dragged in from the grave offered my sister.  They were drooping and limp and she briskly cut off the ends placed them in ice water and it was like a whole new plant emerged. "Is it that obvious?"

"Of course - you wouldn't make an offer like that to just anyone..."

"Oh, no..."

"But you have to love her a lot to even be willing to try."

"Its like she was made for me."

"Well, I guess we'll have to get things rolling for the  _pater_ approval."

Corky tried to give me another hug, but it was rather awkward so instead we shook hands and slapped shoulders before he skuttled off.

I settled myself down with the rest of my drink when Jeeves apparated, hovering significantly. I realized Jeeves might have overheard my exchange with Corky.

"Did you have something to say, Jeeves?"

"Sir, may I speak frankly?"

"Of course, Jeeves."

"I overheard your conversation with Mr. Corcoran. The walls in these houses are so thin. I apologize, sir."

"I wouldn't judge Corky too harshly, you know how it can be when a fellow wants to get married. I've already half forgotten about it."

"Of course, sir. I never doubted you, sir." He paused and swallowed. For the first time, I realized Jeeves was nervous. This was one of the very few times in our long relationship I saw Jeeves appear to be nervous.  "Were you aware, sir, that Mr. Todd is of a Uranian tendency?"

"Are you asking me if I know Rocky is a nancy?"

"It could be phrased in that manner, sir."

My heart jumped into my throat. I decided the best option was to be as honest as I needed to be.

"He is a bit of a weird bird," I allowed, "But he's completely harmless - he just lives in his little cottage watching his ants and earthworms. Its never bothered me. Will my friendship with Mr. Todd be an issue, Jeeves?"

I'd prepared myself for this conversation ever since Rocky and I spoke - as much at it pained me, I decided to go for the swift cut. There are a few New York acquaintances that cut me after they heard I was affiliated with Mr. Todd.  None of them were a great loss.  If Jeeves will give notice over this, then at least I'll know.

"Of course not, sir. But..." he paused and swallowed again, "I'm not sure how to phrase this, sir."

"Spit it out, man."

"Mr. Todd believes he is in love with you, sir."

I burst into laughter. I suppose I shouldn't have. It was partially relief that Jeeves didn't immediately resign but..., he looked so serious about it, as if he were telling me some horrible sobering truth about the world in one of those Russian plays Florence used to take me to.

"Sir, this isn't a laughing matter. Men of his sort... aren't used to taking no for an answer."

This sobered me a bit.

"Do you have any specific examples to give me of this sort of behavior from Mr. Todd? You did work for his father for several years."

"No, sir." He confessed. He looked like he wanted to say more but I oppressed him with a sharp look. I decided to bluff.

"Unless you have specific accusation to make against my friendship with Rocky, then I consider this the last word we'll have on the subject."

"Very well, sir."

"I've known Rocky for close to a decade and he has been nothing but respectful towards me - I trust him as a kitten trusts its mother."

"As you say, sir. I apologize, I had no idea you have been acquainted with Mr. Todd for so long." He looked very thoughtful.

"Should I assume you have no intention on working on his little problem with his neighbors?"

"I'm sorry, sir. I cannot change the way of the world." Jeeves stated stiffly.

"I see." I said icily - and I meant it to sting.

Something about our conversation left me unsettled. In addition to his unpleasant attitude about Mr. Todd, I disliked showing Jeeves the iron hand so I let him have the night off to let both of us cool off a bit.

The next morning he seemed his usual self so I put it off to the standard disagreements that happen occasionally between men of strong will and turned my attention towards the Corky situation.

It pained me to give up my planned enjoyment of the fancy dress party to wait upon this Miss Parsons.  But we Woosters are willing to do what we must.  I couldn't imagine but she would be a pill of a the highest order. Of course, now with time and wisdom I see my mistake - one cannot judge a person by their relatives. I wouldn't want people judging me by Aunt Agatha. 

The next evening, it was with a heavy heart I put on my cowboy hat, popped on my silver belt buckle with green stones, and twisted on the bandanna with its matching clip. I decided, after some consideration to wear a fake mustache - it was unlikely the Parsons head of household would be there, but the more steps I put between him recognizing me from Long Island, the better. Jeeves went out to get the necessary, even as he gave my accessories the fish-eye.

While Jeeves was out, my phone rang.

"Wooster residence." I answered.

"Oh Bertie! Its going to be a disaster!"

It was Sinclair.

"What happened old thing? My man just left to get some of the necessary."

"My man's knocked out his back. My new dog, Romeo, hasn't learned to go outside yet, and... well... Let's just say there were multiple accidents. Could your man help me tonight?"

"Jeeves can buttle with the best, but it is up to him.  I could give him up for the afternoon and evening as necessary."

"Thank you so much Bertie. I have a girl I'm trying to impress and I need everything to go perfectly."

Jeeves was willing and able to serve and left immediately to assist with the remaining buttling duties. Most of the Wooster toilette was finished except for applying the mustache and putting on a pair of boots I found at a little shop down an alley from the club with the green door. They were a size too small but they were the finishing touch I needed. I could put up with them for a few hours, and of course they'd stretch a bit with use.

After admiring the effect in the mirror, I decided to toddle down to Sinclair's bit early to see if I could do anything to help prepare.

"Good afternoon, Jeeves." I said as he opened the door.

"I'm afraid we have a problem, sir. I had just been attempting to ring you..."

Sinclair ran up to the door like a flash. 

"Oh, Bertie! One of us is a fathead and I don't know which one. I didn't give you an invitation, did I?"

"No, you told me to just stop by."

I realized then that Sinclair was not wearing a fancy dress costume but a tux. I tutted.

"Why aren't you dressed, man? You told me this was a fancy dress party."

"I meant formal dress! Formal! Oh god, I have to get an invitation. What if I printed that on the invitations?"

"Do you have any spares?"

"That was the first thing we thought of, sir. The maid is new and had thrown out a number of papers, including a spare invitation. She's currently searching the refuse bin."

"My brother is about your height, I have something upstairs you could borrow if you have to." Sinclair rubbed his hands nervously. "Are you sure I said fancy dress?"

"Absolutely positive. I had been looking forward to showing off my purchases. Maybe you've been throwing too many parties if you can't keep track, old man?"

He didn't seem to think much of this.

"I'm going to stop soon enough, once I get my Juliette to agree to marry me. Her brother will hardly allow her to leave the house - these parties are the only way I can see her."

Thankfully, a girl (presumably the maid in question) came running in triumphantly with a scavenged invite.

"It says  _Formal Dress_." He put his hand to his head.  "Maybe I did tell you fancy dress. I might have been thinking of the costume party I planned to have in a couple of weeks if I don't seal the deal soon."

I declined the offer of a borrowed tux as I had recently purchased an excellent tux I wanted to wear. I opened the door, thinking about how lucky it was I had arrived early, when I almost crashed into a set of beautiful girls who were followed by a bloke I didn't look at too carefully. The blonde had a very attractive face and figure but the no nonsense air of an aunt-to-be. The brunette had the sweet open face of Betty Baker, with the twinkle in her eye of a girl who was always looking for someone to laugh at or with. 

"Well, lookee here." The brunette spoke in a soft drawling voice, the words seeming to melt together like a packet of sweets left on the pavement.  "I didn' think I'd evah see a propah Texas necktie on this side of the Mississippi." Her voice was warm and soothing - I felt like I could listen to her all day. "I'm Lydia Parsons and this is my friend Juliette Portah. What's a southern gentleman like you doin' in New York City?" 

I nervously took off my hat.  Under normal circumstances, I would have explained the situation and we would have had a good laugh and after I came back properly changed she'd find ways to rib me all night about my "fancy" clothes.  But her beauty intoxicated me - so instead, I crooned... 

"Howdy." 

 


	5. Blowing Smoke

Sinclair pulled me aside early on. I expected a large helping of "What are you doing?" with a side of "You need to stop." so I immediately offered to fess up. But fate (or Sinclair at least) had other plans.

"You should stick with your story."

"I make an ass of myself all of the time, I'll explain..."

"I got mixed up, Bertie." Sinclair's hands explored the upper story nervously. "I meant to invite you to that costume party in a couple of weeks. Benny is accompanying his sister tonight."

I didn't have any issue with Benny. However, Benny cut me entirely when he heard I was close friends with Rocky Todd. We Woosters don't shy away from confrontation, but we also don't seek to impose our company on those who don't care for it.

"What does Benny and his sister have to do with anything?"

"Benny was that fellow with the girls. Juliette is his sister."

"I see... So if I come clean not only will you look like a fool in front of your intended-to-be for mixing up your parties..."

"And... I don't know how to say this.... we both know how Benny feels about you and I've tried to stay out of it...."

"I can leave through the back entrance if it bothers you." I spoke a little stiffly. I wouldn't force a friend to choose between us, of course, but one doesn't want to be shoveled out the back door like a dirty secret, either.

"No, of course not. But I'd rather not have a fight break out between you two. He hasn't seen you in a few years, and in that outfit I think he wouldn't recognize you - go with Bert, though.  Southerners speak slowly - have a few drinks to slur it up a bit. Don't say anything bad about Texas." I tried to ask what Texas was but he spoke over me. "If she asks about your accent, say you're from Oklahoma.  And if he figures it out and tries to insult you, tell him 'If you're gonna call me that - smile.' "

"That's not helpful - what's Oklahoma?"

"You'll figure it out, Bertie - I mean, Bert. The doorbell..."

I don't think Benny recognized me, but he didn't seem to like "Bert" much more. I quickly realized the issue after seeing him trying to pull Miss Parson's attention more than once - he'd been trying to make some time with the lovely Miss Parsons himself.

She, for her part, was strangely interested in my southern gentleman routine. I quickly figured out that Texas was a place and Miss Parsons seemed to think quite highly of it. I, for my part, found myself doing an imitation of a tomb. It didn't help that the rest of the party were people from sections of New York society I didn't know otherwise so I had no one to turn to for assistance other than the host or Jeeves. I'd already discussed Corky's plan with Jeeves and he'd agreed it was sound but I didn't see how I would talk Miss Parsons up if I had to pretend to have an accent I only knew from reading title cards.

I broke away for a moment while getting Miss Parsons a drink. 

"Jeeves!" I whispered.

"Sir?"

"What's Oklahoma?"

"I believe, sir, it is a state - they are rather like our provinces."

"You wouldn't know anything about the Oklahoma accent, would you?"

"I'm sorry, sir, I'm unfamiliar with the regional variations in American accents.  Were you planning to change your clothes at some point, sir?"

I could see my outfit pained Jeeves. It was bad enough when it was a fancy dress party, but seeing it mixed in with the tuxes must have really hurt the fellow.

"I'm sorry, Jeeves, I have to keep this up." 

Jeeves' eyebrow twitched as I explained the situation in short form (leaving out the reason Benny disliked me so). When I finished, Jeeves shook the coconut.

"I believe, sir, this is a situation where honesty would be the best policy. Explain the situation to Miss Parsons and you'll gain her goodwill. Any bad behavior on the part of any guest would reflect on himself not you or your host. Excuse me, sir. I must return to my duties"

He then returned to his duties and I returned to Miss Parsons with drink in hand.

I decided that Jeeves might be right in theory, but he was underestimating the influence an older sibling can have over a younger. Sinclair had to have these parties to see this Juliette at all - her brother was unlikely to be more inclined to look kindly at their hot love on the wing knowing that we were good friends.

It was unfortunate that I couldn't really extend myself.  Miss Parsons was a charming girl in every respect. I normally would have enjoyed turning on the charm and effervescence that is the standard for Wooster dinner party behavior. As it was, I was so busy trying to pretend to be this "Bert" I felt suppressed.  I decided to talk about my cousin, "George" (ie my cousin Gussie), changing out a few details here and there and throwing in the occasional "tarnation".  It seemed to go over well enough. I was a little thrown off when she asked what city in Oklahoma I was from. I tried "Oklahoma City" and that seemed to suffice until she asked me what I thought about the state capital controversy.  Thankfully, I looked at the time and realized that Corky's show was probably out and suggested a stroll to stretch our legs a bit.

It didn't take much convincing for Sinclair to agree to join myself, Miss Parsons and Miss Porter for a stroll around the neighborhood. Benny looked like he wanted to object, but he satisfied himself with grumbling something about the streets being unsafe and following behind our little grouping. My feet (still stuffed into boots that must be at least 2 sizes too small) objected rather strongly but I reminded them of the Wooster Code.  They had no choice but to come along.

I'm normally an excellent walker, but my foot pain slowed me down and we fell behind Sinclair and then Benny. Finally I gave up and asked to sit on a bench for a moment. 

"I'm sorry - I thought these boots would stretch more."

"Julie's brother doesn't seem to have taken to you much." She glanced over - Benny had stopped and seemed to be having difficulty deciding between watching us and watching his sister.

"I hope I haven't caused problems between you two..."

Miss Parsons laughed a tinkling little laugh.

"If anything you've done me a favor - maybe now he'll take the hint. Juliette has been a good friend, but her brother can be meaner than pig poop when he's not trying to prove what a good feller he is." She glanced around a bit, "Just between us, he's got on my pa's good side and he's not the kind of fella you wanna say no directly to. You know what I mean?"

I did.

"What about Sinclair?"

"I'm not wantin' to marry him either."

"I mean, what impression do you have of him?"

"I've been to a few of his parties now and he seems like a good enough fellow. The kind of gentleman who realizes girls they're not engaged to or looking to get engaged to exist on occasion." She looked at me significantly. "Him and Juliette?" I checked in. Benny had stopped walking and was watching us closely now. I leaned in a bit.

"If you play along to distract Benny, I bet the question will be popped at any moment."

She leaned in as well.

"You got a real honest face to be actin' so devious. Do you think a slap or a kiss would distract him more?"

"Lady's choice..." 

She let out a peal of shrill laughter.

"OH BERT!" She said loudly, "I don't know if I should slap you or kiss you!"

We definitely had Benny's full attention - he started to run towards us.

"Are you all right, Miss Parsons?" 

"Bert and I are as comfy as two peas in a pod. We'll be fine here until Juliette and Sinclair make their way back 'round."  The couple had already turned a corner. Benny, looked back and forth in confusion, before deciding on following his sister. 

"That should give them a moment." I noted with some satisfaction.

"Does anyone else know y'all're faking that accent?" She had figured it out pretty early on. It seems I finally tipped my hand while talking about Oklahoma. 

"I thought this was going to be a fancy dress party. This is a false mustache." I had to make sure she knew the most important details.

"Bless your heart," she enthused, "take that thing off."

So, I did. While doing so,  I gave an abbreviated version of events while promising I did not regularly pretend to be a Southern gentleman nor did I make a habit of misrepresenting myself to young ladies.

"Its too bad you didn't tell me sooner. I like your real accent even more."

I realized at this point that, in my attempts to maintain my act,  I had completely neglected to tell Miss Parsons about Corky and Kitty's little situation.

"Let me tell you about two aching hearts." Miss Parsons arched an eyebrow - I took this as an invitation to continue. "You see, my friend Corky is engaged to a lovely girl but she needs to get her father's permission to marry. Unfortunately, her father is deceased..."

"Won't her mother's permission work then?"

"Well, you see, her parents are Spiritualists..."

She appeared to have a small fit.

"I'm so sick of hearin' that word." she said heatedly, "Spirtualists are all con artists that take advantage of fools..."

She didn't think much of Spiritualism. It seems that Pa Parsons had moved to Long Island and discovered Spiritualism after the death of her mother.  But when I asked about the medium her father employed the attitude changed significantly. 

"Savannah is an absolute angel on earth. She wouldn't hurt a fly and doesn't have a deceptive bone in her body."

"I thought you said..."

"She's not a Spiritualist in any sense. She is a natural medium - the spells come on and suddenly she'll come out with some deep truth you know didn't come out of some mish mash of citified philosophy and theatricalism."

I must confess I had a difficult time reconciling her contradictory attitudes on the matter, but I didn't have time to ask about it because Corky drove up honking.

"Hey, Bertie!"

"That would be Corky of the couple I was just telling you about." I explained to her.

Corky pulled up in his vehicle.

"Would you like to take a little ride with us?"

I could see it in her face. I had been pretending to be another fellow all night and here comes a second fellow she doesn't know from Adam trying to spirit her off in a vehicle.

"Maybe," I considered, "it would be better if you gave me a ride back home while Kitty keeps Lydia company."

All seemed agreeable to this as Kitty was still dressed for the theatre, and I was gifted with a grateful smile from the lovely Miss Parsons. I made the proper introductions and slumped into Corky's car, pulling off my boots to let my feet air out a bit.  I wouldn't have been surprised to poor out blood. Things were still in their proper places, if a bit sore and swollen.  

I squeezed the boots back on to return to my rooms (five sizes too small - easily) and peeled them off again the moment I closed the door. I slowly crawled to the bath and poured myself into it. It was a much more contented Bertram who relaxed in the living room with a bit of the b and s in one hand and some unimproving reading in the other. I was about to find out how the murderer got into the locked room when Jeeves came home.

"Well, that went about as well as one would expect."

"Yes, sir. You seemed to have left quite an impression on the other guests."

"A good one, I hope?"

He didn't answer me, but its possible he didn't hear as he was heading towards the kitchen. He returned shortly with a tub and then a pitcher of hot water.

"I have a soak that might help your feet, sir."

"Creation of yours?"

"An old family recipe, sir. I might have made a few tweaks."

The soak was quite the thing. It was like a liquid massage. 

"Burn those boots, will you Jeeves?"

"With pleasure, sir."

"Did Sinclair finally seal the deal with his Juliette?"

"I might have overheard that there was happy news, sir."

"Excellent. How did things seem to go between the girls?"

"Mr. Montague explained that you had received a ride back to your rooms from Mr. Corcoran. The three young ladies seemed to become friendly quickly - I overheard Miss Jones invite both girls to stay with her."

"Excellent. Well, that should be the last of my involvement."

"Indeed, sir."

A day later, I was walking to the club when Corky caught up to me and offered me a quick drink and a small lunch to make up for the other day. I told him to consider it already forgotten - he was insistent. We settled into the bar and I offered a toast to the success of his plan.

"Jeeves informs me that everything went smoothly and the girls became quick friends."

Corky and I clinked cups and Corky downed his rather hurriedly.

"Please don't be angry with me, Bertie."

He slammed his drink down with a gulp. I put my drink down more carefully.

"Why would I be angry with you?"

"Kitty told Lydia about your experience with the spirit board and now she says she'll only agree to let us use the medium if you're there."

I should have known. Of course the young gumboil would want to get her own back after listening to me do that terrible western bit all night. But I had an airtight excuse to get out of it.

"I'd do it on principle, Corky, but Pa Parsons has taken a particularly pointed dislike to one Bertram Wooster."

"I thought you said you didn't know him."

"Lets just say I have it on good authority he wouldn't like me if he did."

"He won't be there  - he has business in New York. This is kind of under the table - she's not supposed to do séances outside of her father's presence."

This did cause some difficulty. If the she was letting herself in for some trouble then I was the one who was technically its originator. The  _preux_ thing to do was of course to make sure I was there for the girl.

"Who else will be there?"

"Its going to be a bigger party this time. So, you'll be less likely to get singled out, if that makes you feel better. It will be Miss Parsons, Miss Porter, Kitty, Miss Jones, Mrs. Jones, Sinclair, *cough* _Benny_..."

"Benny!"

"Don't worry about him. Sinclair told me all about it. Now that the engagement is official - if Benny kicks, we will both tell him to stuff it because you're friends with everyone and anyone who knows you knows that. But you being there is non-negotiable.  I'm really sorry - you coming was presented to me as _fait accompli."_ Corky took another sip. "If it helps, I think Lydia really likes you."

"Really?"

"She had a lot of questions about you. She's a very pretty girl..."

"Well... I don't have to affect a southern accent, do I?"

"I'd rather you didn't. _"_

I let out a dispirited "What ho." I couldn't even rouse myself to be angry. I should have known that I wasn't done. Corky agreed to pick me up from Rocky's on his way to La Casa Parsons the next day so I could take the early train out for some sympathy. 

I cabled to check if conditions had changed since Rocky's letter and when I didn't get a response, decided to make my way there anyway. I dropped off my letter to my sister on the way to the station and hoped that was good enough for any spirits watching.

I stopped at the diner briefly for a cup of tepid tea to go - Myrtle wasn't working so I moved on. It wasn't exactly with bells on that I made my way to Rocky's cottage again. The soak Jeeves provided kept the tootsies in line, but they weren't exactly happy with even the mild and pleasant stroll.  When I finally got to the cottage, I was dry and hollow - but Rocky was nowhere to be found. His fence post was unmanned. The bedroom was free of knitting. Even the kitchen was empty. I sat on his ancient couch (which, I noted, was still covered with the comforter Jeeves had dug up) planning to let my tootsies rest a minute before trying to figure out how to get into the wine cellar to find a bottle of the best.

I heard a sound like bird shaking its feathers on a dewy spring morning and turned to discover Myrtle standing behind me, her hands on her hips. She was dressed more casually than when I'd seen her at the diner, wearing a jolly hat with an adornment of fake flowers. In this light, she looked much younger than I thought her to be previously. I stood and wondered wildly if I'd somehow managed to enter the wrong cottage.  She smiled at me like pterodactyl with a secret sorrow. 

"He'll be upset he missed you."

"Have you missed him as well?" I was rather confused by her presence. I had that strange reality swaying feeling again. I wondered how Julius Caesar would handle a situation like this.

"I'm renting his extra room for a little while. Rocky has always been a good sort."

"Oh? How long have you known him?"

"We went to school together." 

Everyone seems to have gone to school with Rocky now. Seemed to be the new Thing.

"That's right." I noted slowly, "I forget American schools are co-ed. Is that right?"

She nodded, still smiling at me like she was posing for the Mona Lisa.

"Rocky is on his way to New York right now - if you cabled, he's not been getting his telegrams lately."

"Oh." This was disappointing. I'd hoped he had merely gone for a supply run. "I guess you'll have to deal with me until Corky comes by to pick me up this afternoon. I don't have any easy way to get in contact with him - but I can wait outside if you prefer..."

"You're fine." she chuckled a bit. "I'll be leaving for work soon." She indicated the paper bag I hadn't noticed before sitting by the door. "I change into my work uniform in the bathroom so I won't smell like sweat all afternoon." Then she added, "You shouldn't be here, you know."

"I'm... sorry?" I wasn't sure if she had information I didn't.

"Bertie, I think we need to have a little talk."

"Is this about what you were saying to Jeeves?"

"You noticed?" She chuckled a bit. "How about I see if I can find that wine cellar?"

Rocky had no idea he had a wine cellar until Jeeves found the entrance in the servants quarter. Rocky isn't one for drinking to begin with so it was likely to remain well stocked for the near future. We made our way to the kitchen - through some ingenious carpentry the entrance to the servant area was completely hidden unless you knew where to look. I did not. I vaguely remembered meandering to the kitchen the other night and knocking at walls until Jeeves responded so I could point at the general area. Myrtle figured out the rest through a mixture of knocking for the hollow spots and feeling into crevices in the wall. Finally, she seemed to reach into a flat wall and magically pull out a door.

"How do you think Jeeves found it?" She didn't respond. "Probably a special sixth sense."

She came up shortly with a bottle of the best. I offered to take care of the drinks, but she popped out the cork and poured in the manner of an old hand.

We settled in with our drinks on Rocky's old couch, and I, in my suave manner, flicked a match and lit her cigarette for her.

"Well, aren't you one of the last true gentlemen?"

"I certainly hope not. One of the last, I mean."

I felt a small cotillion of butterflies start to dance. I must confess I had flirted with her a bit in the past. But I had, at the time, thought she was at least in her mid-forties - but in the light of Rocky's living room I can see she was much younger. Possibly about Rocky's age - its the skin. It develops a thinggummy when someone gets a particular age, and her skin didn't quite have this quality yet. I found myself worrying a bit I might have set her up with... expectations of a sort. But, no, Rocky wouldn't let her stay here if he thought... No.

She took a long drag and a long sip, looking at me as if she was an entomologist and I was a particularly interesting caterpillar she had found in her salad.

"Rocky really likes you." She finally observed. She waited a moment, but I'm not sure what for. "He has other fellows who come around on occasion, but no one he sticks with like you. In case you were wondering."

I had, to be honest, on some level assumed I was one of many long distance relationships Rocky kept at arms length. A boy on every port, or something like that.

"That's nice to hear." I ventured carefully. "But naturally Rocky has friends other than me."

"I don't see it personally." She continued - this wasn't as nice to hear, but I wasn't going to argue. Us Woosters are a rarified taste not to everyone's fancy. "Not that you're bad looking or a snob or anything like that. But I don't know what you've done to inspire such devotion in the boy."

"I certainly hope you're not implying Rocky and I are anything but good friends."

"I'm sure you're good friends as well." She patted my hand. "But you don't need to hide from me. When you leave him, it will break that poor boy's heart."

Things seemed to be taking a rather personal turn.

"This wasn't what you were speaking to Jeeves about the other day, was it?"

She chuckled, deeply. 

"No, no no. I was making sure of your man's discretion in a private matter, if you must know - and if you don't know what it is he must have honored it." She cleared her throat a bit. "No. I want you to use your influence with Rocky to try to get him to take advantage of a writers retreat in France. I happen to know for a fact he has an open invitation.  I would be happy to watch the place while he's gone. I'd even pay him a bit of rent."

"That would be great for Rocky!" He'd never mentioned a thing about it. France! I could easily find reasons to make my way there semi-regularly.

"That's what I think. A little time away, things calm down, that Parsons fellow finds another plot of land to want."

"You know about that?"

"I know about everything in this town, darling."

"As long as its not in Paris proper, I'd think he'd leap at a chance like this."

"Its in a sleepy little town - I know he'd love it. But he refuses to even consider it. I think a bit of it is pride, mixed with a bit of... well, you know how much Rocky hates change."

"He's a luddite."

"I'll take your word for it. I think if it came from you, he'd be more likely to listen. Maybe you could promise to visit him occasionally?" 

"I'm sure I could figure something out." I remembered her earlier comment. "What do you mean I shouldn't be here?"

"Rocky told you to stay put. But, if you're getting picked up by your friend in a bit, I suppose you'll be alright." She glanced at her watch. "Look at the time! I have to go," grabbed her paper bag and left, presumably to work. I finished a thoughtful drink and enjoyed a relaxed cigarette before settling in for a short nap.

As I slept, I perchanced to dream. At first it was normal enough as far as dreams go. My sister was trying out dresses and accessories on me (I think all boys with older sisters dealt with this indignity at some point) and Jeeves was waiting on us, giving her tips.

"I believe the blue scarf, Miss, would work better." 

She threw a scarf covered in little flowers into the fire - and suddenly the scarf was full of pudding that had shards of broken glass sticking out all over and I was digging out the glass looking for something. It was burning. Smelled awful and the smoke filled the room. I was coughing and my sister and Jeeves were gone, and I heard my mother say

"You need to wake up, dearest."

Now I didn't hear this in my dream - I heard it in real life as clear as day, but I didn't think about it until much later. No, my immediate attention was taken up with the fact that the room was filled with smoke.

My first thought was of my cigarrette. But if it were my cigarette wouldn't I see flames nearby? I didn't feel any heat but my eyes were already watering.  I couldn't remember how the room was arranged anymore.  I got up with my arms out, thinking I'd get to a wall and once I got to a wall I'd feel for a door and eventually through this method exit the building. This didn't work the way I hoped.  I almost immediately got disoriented and walked right back into the sofa. I collapsed onto it in a coughing fit - the smoke was making me light headed.

I was about to make a second pass of it when a hand grabbed my ankle.  I'll confess I might have made a noise not unlike a pterodactyl before I lost interest in things for a while.


	6. La Casa Parsons

I awoke to find Rocky frantically tearing off my tie and collar. 

"I hope Jeeves isn't following you because if he saw this he'd have a heart attack." I coughed.

"Oh, thank god, you're ok." Rocky gave me a warm embrace. "Myrtle isn't still inside is she?"

Immediately upon realizing I must have gone to his home in Long Island, Rocky took the first train back (thankfully one of those new trains Myrtle mentioned had started running). He walked back and, on seeing the plumes of smoke, started to run.  Rocky rescued me from the cottage having (as he called it) the "common sense" to crawl under the smoke instead of putting his "fat head directly into it". Frankly, it was nice have someone all a twitter rather than giving me the placid, indifferent treatment. There was no fire - someone (most likely with that rival club) had thrown a smoke bomb of some sort into one of his windows and put too much salt or not enough salt in it and created way more smoke than they intended.

Rocky opened the all of his windows and the front door - the smoke cleared away soon enough.

"I'm sure they didn't know anyone was home."

"Possibly." Rocky replied gravely

"Certainly no one was supposed to be hurt. Probably trying to give you a little fright."

"Possibly." Rocky replied again, his expression unreadable. "But you're not going to go to Parsons' on your own. Not after this."

"You're being silly." I stepped back into the cottage doorway. No real damage done. "He's not even going to be there."

"Let me put it this way," Rocky said steadily, moving to block my exit "Either I go with you to Parsons', or I make sure you stay here."

"Oh, will you?" I crossed my arms for emphasis. I wasn't about to allow myself to be pushed around - the smoke wasn't even that bad. "I'd like to see you try."

"I'll do it, Bertie. Either I go with you, or you stay here even if I have to physically hold you down." He crossed his arms in turn. Rocky wasn't exactly musclebound, but he wasn't the portrait of the willowy pale poet wasting away, either. Through pure physical leverage alone he could hold me down as long as he deemed necessary. 

I never considered Rocky coming with me an option. If anyone would be in danger at the Parsons, it would be him. He was being ridiculous.  We didn't even have any real evidence Parsons knew who I was.  I had one advantage in a physical confrontation with Rocky - and I took it. I zigged and... well, Rocky zigged too. I zagged and Rocky zagged as well. When I zigged then zagged he picked me up and threw me over his shoulder with a grunt.

"Why are you being so rebellious, darling?" Rocky asked tenderly as he carried me back into his cottage. "I tell you to stay away and you show up. I tell you to stay and you run."

Now the reader might be forgiven in thinking that Rocky was being a bit of a brute, but I had fully counted on Rocky reacting like this. It was, in fact, my plan.

"I guess you'll have to stop me." I purred the best I could under the circs. Sometimes subtlety isn't the best policy.

"Oh? And how should I do that?"

"I guess you'll have to hold me down." I made a show of wriggling away and he gave me a few playful slaps before pinning me onto his bed.

"You aren't going anywhere." He growled in turn. All this activity had gotten the old blood flowing which didn't escape Rocky's attention. It didn't take long before he forgot his original intentions and well.... I did too. 

But I did remember eventually. About an hour later, I was re-dressed and clean enough and Rocky was sawing logs. I dislike subterfuge but sometimes a fellow does what he must.  I found a popped button to keep in my pocket for repair later and pinned my tie to my shirt in a way to cover it up just in time to be picked up by Corky. 

"Everyone else is already at Parsons," Corky informed me. "What was with all that smoke earlier?"

"I think someone was having a cookout." I replied.

 _"_ Great, great." Corky said absently.

"Is everything going well?"

"Yes, yes..." I shot him a look. "Well, there wasn't anyone working at the house. Lydia was supposed to be staying with Juliette so all the servants had the day off. But we managed. She met with the medium first thing in the morning and explained the situation and the medium said she was happy to help."

"Happy to pocket that juicy medium money, I'm sure."

"She refused to accept any money in advance - said the satisfaction of using her gift was reward enough."

"I bet she accepts tips, though. Have a little something ready."

"That's worth thinking about." Corky considered this. "If nothing else it will be entertaining, don't you think?"

"What do you mean?" The spirit board wasn't my idea of entertainment.

"Well, from what I hear, mediums put on a real show. Shaking tables, horns that play by themselves, ectoplasm..."

I'd completely forgotten about this. It cheered me up immensely.

"Yes, it will be a real show, won't it?"

"By the way - don't be too worried about Benny. He and Kitty's sister seem to have taken to each other." This wasn't too surprising. Lizzy was an attractive girl with a strong personality that one would either take to or leave pretty quickly. "If he gives you a problem, say something extremely English."

Parsons lived much closer than I anticipated. In fact Rocky and the Parsons were effectively neighbors - if you could call a distance of several miles neighborly. In contrast to Rocky's modest home, it was quite the sight. It was like someone had taken several pieces of the manor homes I had grown up in and sewn them together into a new beast. It did seem a bit much for an old man and his daughter. Most of the introductions had already been made and the guests were huddled into smaller groups. I shot straight for Sinclair, who was pouring something brownish into icy glasses.

"I hear you have happy news," I said in my discreet way, while pouring myself a glass.

"Its true. That walk you sent us on did the trick. Benny was so distracted by you and Lydia I finally got the question out. And she said, yes. I really owe you one, Bertie."

"Oh, its nothing...nothing... All in a days work. I love seeing two hearts come together."

Benny took the drinks over to Juliette and Lydia who both took their drinks gratefully. At seeing me in my normal outer crust, Miss Parsons eyes lit up strangely. Something like a minor souls awakening.

"I think I need to introduce you properly. This is my friend, Bertie Wooster."

"Didn't you call yourself Bert and speak with a completely different accent the other day?" Juliette was a sharp observant girl. Perhaps a little too much so.

"I'm just glad the facial fungus came off." Lydia laughed heartily. A little too heartily - the memory of previous mustache attempts still rankled in the memory. A girl can have too much of a sense of humor - you see her at breakfast time and she cracks wise at the new hairstyle or what have you. A fellow needs a bit of space to be himself.

"Bertie was playing a bit of a practical joke after realizing he got mixed up about which party he was going to." Sinclair laughed cheerfully but Juliette pursed her lips, seemingly displeased. 

"Congratulations on your engagement." I said politely.

"Thank you." She said icily. I can take a hint so I excused myself to speak to Kitty who was sitting with Corky separately from the main party.

I passed Benny keeping the younger Miss Jones company with intense back and forth conversation. Mrs. Jones was watching them carefully. Corky quickly stepped over and started speaking energetically to them all so I was able to give the whole grouping a miss.  

"Hopefully this time we'll have some proper luck." I said to Kitty as way of hello.

"Mother seems convinced Daddy has something to say to us - if she's right, this supposed medium will give him the opening he needs. Maybe your family will have something more to say to you?"

"One can only hope." I said politely - this was, of course, the very last thing I wanted but it seemed better to let it sit. "How is little Bikki doing?"

"Oh, I'm so glad you asked...." Kitty then proceeded to give me a long detailed description of a most intimate medical issue Bikki was having. I mean, if I were a small dog, I'd still want a modicum of privacy. Perhaps even more so. Lydia came by with Corky, the dear girl, and asked if she could borrow me a minute because she had a question about the message from the spirit board. Perhaps it says something of how interminable Kitty's monologue about Bikki's medical issues was that I eagerly agreed to go with her. Corky grimly took my spot.

"Don't worry, I don't care about that stupid board." Lydia giggled. "I saw you were in need of rescue and brought the calvary. Kitty is a sweet girl, but she's happier than a dead pig in the sun."

"Corky seems happy enough with her."

"I think its sweet that you care so much about your friends getting married. Lots of fellas only care about themselves." She took a sip of her drink, then leaned in. "What do you think are the chances of Sinclair and Juliette sealing the deal?"

"Oh, I don't care to speculate..."

"Now come on, its just the two of us. Julie is a good friend but she has a mean streak. The times I've seen that Sinclair fella he's been sweet as pie. I think her mean streak is going to get the better of her and they'll be off before the newspaper prints the announcement."

"He hasn't seen much of her outside of his parties." I acknowledged, "he tends to be one of those chaps who just sees a pretty girl and thinks everything else will fall into place."

"Spoken like a man who's been engaged more than once." She laughed heartily. "I've managed to avoid it, myself. Not for a lack of my pa trying, though. He sent me off to Juliette's hoping that Benny and I would finally click."

"Relatives can be trying." I acknowledged. "My aunt is convinced I need to get married as soon as possible."

"You don't agree?" She looked at me searchingly and I remembered the way she looked at me earlier. I tried to think of something to say that wouldn't lead her on but I seemed to be drawing a blank. The usual response (waiting on the right girl) might be a little too leading - suggesting, that is, that she might be the right girl. "Marriage isn't for everyone," she said finally. "Me, for one, I've been planning on a nice long spinsterhood with my friend Mary. I have a nice little income my ma left me that I can draw on once I'm old enough and she socks away a little money working as a waitress."

"I go by that diner sometimes. Maybe I've seen her."

"So that's where I recognize you from." she teased.

"Pardon?" This wasn't what I was expecting.

"I saw you when I used to stay with my friend in town. Making your way over to that fellow in the little cottage. I thought I knew y'all from somewhere." She had an unpleasant gleam in her eye as she whispered "I know what you are."

"I don't believe you do."  I tried to keep my tone even. I must confess I was blushing deeply. Miss Parsons, for her part, didn't seem displeased.

"Its quite all right." she whispered, "I know all about it."

Somehow the pleased look on her face was more distressing than if she were condemning and I found myself looking for that wonderful auntish Juliette for a good glare or two. She soon joined us with Sinclair in tow and supplied the necessary with a sharpish "What are you two whispering about over here?"

"I wouldn't say we were whispering, just having a little chat about this and that." I said lightly.

She gave me a narrow-eyed look that reminded me unpleasantly of my Aunt Agatha when she was on a roll.

"Oh, yeah?" If she were a chap, they would have been fighting words. As it was...

I deftly changed the subject.

"What about this medium of yours?"

"What about her?" Lydia smiled.

"I figure if nothing else she's going to put on a great show, what? Tables shake and bugles play by themselves..."

"Oh I've heard about those," Sinclair interjected. "I've heard that they make this stuff that glows in the dark and if light hits it... it disintegrates."

He seemed unduly impressed with this. When I was a boy, stuff disintegrating in light meant it was something that needed to be thrown out. But I hear that things aren't as old in America...

"Oh, she's not that kind of medium." Lydia said firmly.

"If she's not a medium, is she a small or a large?" I laughed - but no one else did.

Kitty raced over like a dog who had heard the hunting bugle.

"What do you mean not that kind?" Kitty asked excitedly

"She's a mental medium. She has a spirit guide she contacts who puts us in touch with the people we want to speak to."

I had been previously unaware that there were a variety of mediums.

"How does she prepare?" Kitty was doing everything short of taking notes. If nothing else, the beasel had an endless well of enthusiasm for things.

"I believe she's meditating right now. She works her best when the spirits come to her of their own accord, but she has private methods she uses to bring on the spells." Lydia spoke warmly. "Savannah always refuses money in advance, asking only that you give her what you can as the spirit moves you."

"Well, why all the smoke and mirrors then?" Juliette demanded, taking fresh interest in the subject. "Why did we come here rather than she come to my house? Our summer house is practically next door." In American terms, from what I can tell, that means she was only a couple of towns away rather than in another state-province. It was a fair question.

"She's hidden her identity. My pa found her through an ad he put out in the paper months ago. She comes by and tries to contact my ma for us every Saturday. I was supposed to leave her a note for when she came by - as you might recall, I'm supposed to be staying with you, Juliette." She gave the girl a look that would have killed a lesser man. "But instead I came here and explained Kitty's situation. Savannah was so sympathetic, she's such a sweet girl."

I began to get a niggling that something was strange here. A veiled medium who demands her identity remain secret? Could she be a hidden wife? Lydia's mother after suffering some secret shame? Its been too long since I've seen a good show for an example of what might be happening here. I made a mental note to grab one soon.

"Wait a second," Kitty became heated and I could see why Corky considered it worth going back on his word to me in order to not incur her wrath,  "She hasn't even contacted your mother, yet? Has she contacted anyone?"

Lydia became heated in turn.

"I speak to my ma every time Savannah arrives. But for some reason she won't come when Pa is present."

I could see the spirit's perspective. I suspect I would prefer Lydia's company myself and consider the spirit world a welcome respite from breakfast with a man like Theo Parsons.  

Since we were all present, I and the other fellows left for the parlor to arrange the room in the manner Lydia indicated, putting chairs into a circle that surrounded a comfortable armchair in the middle where Savannah would sit.  Mrs. Jones seemed rather sniffy about the whole thing but calmed down a bit after we all got into place male-female in the familiar way (as far was was possible). I ended up with Lydia on one side and Juliette on the other. Right across from me was Corky with Kitty on one side and Mrs. Jones on the other. The lights were lowered and a veiled woman entered the room.

Now THIS is what a spiritualist should look like, even if she wasn't one. She wore a silky robe of black with an embroidered blue and purple oriental motif. I made a mental note to watch out for something like this in the future. It was stunning. The veil seemed to float around her head but it was sheer enough I could see her hair appeared to be wrapped up in a dark velvety turban thing.  I could understand Lydia's fascination with the woman. 

She spoke in a soft but commanding voice.

"Everyone join hands." We did. "Let us pray." 

She then led us into a prayer for only the requested spirits to arrive, some stuff about light and love and as soon as we'd said our "Amens" her head dropped then lifted. A man's voice came out that seemed so incongruous to the woman in front of us that I startled rather strongly, almost dropping Lydia's hand.

"Before we start, we have one matter that needs to be handled - could someone remove the gentleman in the cabinet?"

At this, we all turned to look at a cabinet in the corner. I looked at Corky who looked at Sydney who - for a lack of anyone else, looked to Benny. Before any of us could decide who would check, a squat white haired man jumped out.  Mrs. Jones let out a sharp scream - us chaps got up ready to act.

"What is this?!" He said sharply. I think the better question was who he was and what was he doing in the cabinet but things began unraveling too quickly to ask.

"Pa!" shouted Lydia. So this was the legendary Theo Parsons.  I'd imagined him taller, for some reason. He looked like someone had taken a taller man and squashed him down like wet clay. He wasn't short, but he had a broadness that made him seem smaller somehow rather than larger. Rather like a bulldog without the charm.

"Who are all these people? What are you doing, child?" He saw me and I might have blanched slightly as he focused in. "And what is this ..... doing here?" It seems, he did know me on sight. You might notice that there is a word missing from that sentence. Its not because the word was not easily understood. There was a word he said quite clearly there, but its not a word I care to repeat. Juliette must have dropped the hand she had at this point but I was too distracted to notice.

"I say! There are ladies present!" is what I planned to say, but I didn't get far beyond "I say..." before Lydia leapt over me with.

"How dare you speak to my fiance like that!"

There seemed to be an echo of "WHAT??!!" around the room from myself, Parsons, Benny and possibly others. Lizzy seemed to enter another and better world when I said, "I say!" which seemed.... for the best really.  Juliette let out a sharp, "AH!" that I didn't care for. Lydia still held on to my hand with a rock hard grip. If young prune didn't play tennis, she should. 

"I've told you to stay away from those fellas, Lyddie dear..."

"Why? So I wouldn't know how you're trying to kick people who've lived here their whole lives out of their homes? Come into this town like you own it and tell everyone that doesn't live the way you want to get the hell out? You're nothin' but a carpetbagger!" The way Parsons gasped and turned red I wondered if I had completely misunderstood that last word. "A CARPETBAGGAH!" Her voice cracked a bit at the end but there was no question as to the word. She finally let her iron grip relax, burst into tears and ran out. Most of the room was looking at me as if I were the lead in a show who was falling short. Parsons, specifically, was looking at me as if he were thinking about a gun he might have sitting in a trunk somewhere so it seemed wise to remove myself as well. 

I went out to the hallway and followed the weeping sounds to a window seat that looked out on a lovely little garden. There were no proper paths, but it was the kind of garden I'd be eager to take a girl like Lydia for a walk in under other circs. I patted her on the head absently. I had intended to ask some pointed questions about how we became engaged when I didn't remember asking, but the tears appeared so genuine I didn't have it in me. She was a very pretty girl, and seeing tears running down that lovely face broke down my resistance. Perhaps, I thought, marrying her wouldn't be too bad. I could do worse, but then I thought of Parsons as a father-in-law and shuddered. Perhaps, if she was willing to move to London...

"Oh, Bertie. I'm so sorry. It was the first thing I could think of that would stop him."

"In England, its standard to be asked before making declaration of that sort but I thought maybe in America things might be different."

She laughed a little. I offered her my handkerchief and she wiped up the map a bit.

"I think we could make it work, Bertie. I think we might have something in common." she sniffed, "I know the pain of being in love with someone and not being able to shout it from the rooftops."

"Oh... ah.... Well not all of us are exactly rooftop shouters...." I began.

"This could well be for the best - I don't think either of us would be happy in a traditional marriage." She sniffed. "Bertie... You have a trustworthy face. I feel like I can tell you something I've never told anyone other than my ma - and she's dead so I suppose that doesn't count..."

"That's really not necessary..." I started but she straightened the shoulders, and looked me straight on.

"I'm in love with someone." The shoulders collapsed a bit.

"Well that's..." I started.

"And she loves me."

"Oh..." I was starting to get the picture.

"My father separated us because he suspected our friendship was too 'intense'." She sniffed bitterly. "He even bought the boarding house for ladies she was living in and evicted the whole group in hopes that I'd lose track of her." This explained Myrtle's presence at Rocky's. I can figure out a few things on occasion. "If you and I got married, I'd have access to my whole trust immediately. You could live however you want, and she could stay with us as a friend of the family. We could adopt. We'd all get what we want, Bertie! You can't deny this is the best solution."

One learns something new about the world every day. But I quickly saw the flaws in her reasoning.

"Well I see a few cracks, Lydia. Firstly, I very much want a traditional marriage. I think you're very pretty." She pushed out her lips in a _moue_. "Secondly, I'm not sure what you think about me, but I'll tell you that you have the wrong end of it. Rocky and I are just good friends."

She bit the lip thoughtfully.

"You're a gentleman, aren't you?" she asked firmly.

"Of course."

I could not see where she was going with this. It seems she expected me to get something out her statement I wasn't getting because we just stared at each other for a long moment. Finally she broke the silence with a sigh.

"I'm starting to suspect you're a few feathers short of a duck."

"Now, I don't know what that means..." I started somewhat heatedly before I heard a respectful cough behind me. My knees almost buckled. While hot passion has its good points, there are times that require a calm cool head and I couldn't have been more grateful to have this particular cool head at my side.  Jeeves' eyes immediately went to my tie, and he adjusted it without even a change in expression when he noted the missing button, pinning things in place perfectly.

"How are you doing, sir?" 

"I seem to be engaged." I said helplessly.

"Indeed, sir." Hearing his calm voice, bolstered the Wooster spirits. Now that he was here, I felt that everything would soon be back in order. At the very least, I wouldn't have to deal with this alone. "Miss Parsons? Perhaps I should bring some of your friends to speak to you for a moment."

"I'm quite all right." she said decisively as she wiped her eyes. "I'm the hostess, and I need to tend to my guests."

She went ahead of us and I took the opportunity to speak to Jeeves.

"What are you doing here? I feel like I rubbed a lamp."

"As you might recall, sir, you generously gave me the day off. Mr. Todd seemed concerned for your safety when he stopped by this morning, so I decided to visit a friend of mine who works for Mr. Parsons."

I was pleased.

"So you decided to look into the matter for the young master on your day off? That's quite feudal of you."

"Mr. Todd and I had a most enlightening conversation. I believe, sir, I might be able to assist Mr. Todd after all."

"I don't know if Rocky would accept your help at this point. The way he's acting I think he's about to sell the place and be done with it."

"I have quite a bit more information than I had previously, sir. I believe I can make sure this matter will be resolved in a manner that will be satisfactory.  I will remain in the hallway should you need me, sir."

I was mighty bucked by Jeeves mere presence and was only slightly wilted by the looks Parsons and Mrs Jones gave me when I re-entered the room. Corky had already taken the bull by the horns - having learned the fine art of softening from dealing with his uncle - and had convinced Parsons to allow them to continue the séance once the party was complete again.

Parsons took the spot by Mrs. Jones, sending Benny back between Lydia and Kitty giving us the full male/female complement that the spirits seem to like so much.

Savannah hadn't moved this whole time. She could probably give Julius Caesar a lesson or two in not being moved by the unfirm earth, but it was hard to tell what she was thinking with that veil over her head. We were all giving her the full attention now and it had just gotten to the point of being a bit boring when the veil moved.

"Teddy." The voice had the same soft melting accent as the young Miss Parsons but the tone was cold and hard.

"Bonnie!" Parsons' whole aspect changed. It was almost enough to give one a bit of sympathy for the fellow. You'd think a married man would know better, but I recognized that tone immediately and it promised nothing good.

"Don't you 'Bonnie' me." Her voice was sharp and charged, and Parsons cowered. "Did it not occur to you that I might have a reason to not want to speak to you?  I'm _embarrassed._ You are not acting like the man I married. The man who had the proper sense to not join some supposed 'civic club' - and for what? A tiny bit of land that you'd hardly even notice."

"Darling..."

"I'm not finished." She said firmly. "You've been buying up this whole town like its a souvenir spoon collection and evicting good people from their homes."

"Good people!" he guffawed, "If you knew..."

"I know better than you do, thank you!" She sniffed haughtily. "You're behaving in a manner offensive to all right thinking people and that the man I married would have condemned. You're going to lose our daughter to some fellow she barely knows because she can't stand to be around _you_." That last "you" seemed to hit him between the eyes. "The _least_ you could do is back off and actually get to know the people who live here instead of condemning them as rubes." She then turned to Lydia. "Darling, you do what you feel like you need to do to be happy. This will be our last meeting on this side. Mr. Jones is waiting his turn - I don't want to keep the happy couple waiting."

The medium's head dropped. After a minute or so the veil moved again.

"Prudence?" 

Just like before, the voice sounded exactly like a man. But a different chap.

"Charlie?" Mrs. Jones gasped. "Is that you?" 

She was so moved she came lifted herself out of her chair to kneel and take the medium's hands in hers.

"Prudence, darling... I have so much to tell you, but its so hard to maintain this.... Of course, I give our dear Kitty permission to marry the man of her choice - and, darling Lizzy as well. I know you meant well adding that into my will.... but finding an opening is so difficult....."

I slipped out at this point.  Something about it felt too personal to watch.

"Is everything well, sir?" Jeeves was waiting outside.

"Well, Corky has received his permission so I think our part is about done with that at least."

"My friend has access to the household vehicle if you'd like to slip away, sir." he cleared his throat, "It might be wise for you to not be present for what I have to say to Mr. Parsons."

It was tempting.

"No, I just need to get away for a moment. I've seen too much of heaven and earth for my philosophy." I thought about it a moment and added, "Send Corky my way when he's out, I'll get a ride from him."

I went to the window seat where I had earlier found Lydia. I felt strangely unsettled by everything I'd seen. I don't know how long I sat there looking out at the garden before I heard a voice behind me.

"Would you like to speak to anyone?"

The medium spoke in hushed tones, as if the spirits were sleeping and she didn't wish to wake them.

"That's quite all right." I said decisively.

"I have a message to pass on, if you'd like to receive it."

"Its not necessary." I didn't wish to be rude, but I've had quite enough of messages from beyond.

"I think you'll find it useful." She was not letting it go.

"Right ho." I finally allowed.

"She wanted me to tell you that you don't have to write your sister if you don't want to and to not take Agatha so to heart - they're very proud of you." She started to walk away.

My breath might have caught a bit.

"Wait..." She stopped and turned towards me. "Do the spirits watch... everything we do? Or do they give us some privacy?"

She laughed - a rich sound that filled the small alcove.

"They were human once. They know there are moments a young man needs his privacy."

To my surprise, the medium lifted her veil. It was Myrtle. She put her finger to her lips and winked before replacing the veil and walking away.


	7. Afterwards...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Later Bertie is telling Rocky about what happened.

"Wait, now," Rocky's fingers twined into my hair and I was comfortably settled into his lap outside with the ants. "I don't understand, why was Parsons in that cabinet to begin with?"

"Parsons says that he assumed his daughter would choose to see the medium without him and hoped to have a chance to see her communicate with her mother. He had fallen asleep and woke up to realize that she'd gone rather farther than he expected." Something about this explanation didn't seem right, but one doesn't want to upset the uneasy peace that had been achieved. "What I want to know is what you thought you were going to do with that antique of yours?"

After the séance, Corky gave me a quick ride back to Rocky's. On the way we discovered Rocky walking towards Parsons' house with his ancient matchlock gun in hand.

"I really don't know. I was so worried about you. Things had been escalating so much recently - I didn't know what he was capable of. I still don't really trust this sudden change of heart."

From the mixture of his wife's message and a firm talking to about something from Jeeves, Parsons had turned into a Scrooge (that is Scrooge at the end of the story), sending out his driver to invite everyone he'd evicted or otherwise caused trouble for to a nice dinner in his home (which his chef got a large bonus for, only right considering it was the man's day off).

"He un-evicted Myrtle and her friends, didn't he?"

I could hear Jeeves loudly shaking his fishing pole as if to shake the water off of it so I quickly slid off of Rocky's lap.  I suspected Jeeves did this so he wouldn't see anything he didn't need to see. I appreciated it - Jeeves seemed to have come to an understanding that these days at Mr. Todd's were something of an automatic vacation. He was the one to suggest staying for a few days after Rocky happened to mention the excellent fishing that could be had in the lake on his land. I was worried that Jeeves' presence would be overbearing, but in fact he was content to fish and sit in his room and read most of those days.

"How are the fish the morning, Jeeves? Were they jumping into your boat?" I shouted to him as we were some distance apart.

"I have nothing to complain about, sir." He didn't shout but somehow he managed to be clearly audible as he returned to the cabin.

"That man of yours must have learned a great deal from my father." Rocky noted wryly. "I'm sorry we missed him giving Parsons what must have been the talking to of a lifetime."

"Jeeves has his ways. I'm so glad he convinced Parsons to set his daughter up with her own household with that friend of hers."

"I'm still not sure how he talked me into renting my cottage to them while I go to France."

"It will be fine. Lydia is a sweet girl."

"Oh, its Lydia, is it?"

"We were only engaged for an hour, there's no reason to act so jealous."

"Oh, I'm not jealous."

"Maybe you should be." I threw in archly, "She's a very good looking girl."

Rocky chuckled.

"You're a great appreciator of beauty. But I get the impression you're not quite her type. Fill me in on all the other hearts you managed to unite." 

"I swear, you make me sound like some sort of busybody." I smacked at him a bit as he waited expectantly, a big grin on his face. "Fine. Kitty is becoming Mrs. Corky right now. Sinclair and Juliette broke things off on the way back home. She had a few nasty words to say about some of the people Parsons invited to dinner," I chose to leave out that those people included self and Rocky, "and he realized she wasn't quite as pretty as he thought.  I think Benny and Lizzy might have sparked something but one doesn't like to speculate..."

"It sounds like everything has worked out for everyone." His tone went from playful to serious. "Bertie, I want to talk to you about something." He checked as if to make sure Jeeves had returned to the cottage.

I instinctively began to sweat. If he was checking where Jeeves was, this might be a serious conversation about feelings. It's not that I didn't adore Rocky but I didn't necessarily want to have a cozy chat about it.

 "Is this about what you and Jeeves were arguing about last week when you thought I was sleeping?"

"What? No... that was just... Jeeves and I have worked that out."

"Jeeves called his last conversation with you enlightening - what did you tell him?" I acted mock angry but I wasn't too worried. Jeeves and I had returned to our usual understanding of each other. I was starting to suspect my western costume might have had more to do with Jeeves reluctance than anything - I told him to do with it as he pleased and he confessed he'd already disposed of them with the boots.

"Nothing worth worrying about - I don't want to talk about Jeeves with you, Bertie."

"What do you want to talk about?" Rocky didn't say anything for a minute and I poked him with my finger to make sure he hadn't drifted.

"Do you remember telling me about how you and your sister used to fantasize about running away to New York when you were young?" 

"Did I?" I had to think back a bit. "I do remember Jane and I used to say we'd run away to New York together if Aunt Agatha tried to force her to marry..."

"Exactly. You should plan a visit here with her as a gift. Your sister gets a change of pace, you two get to know each other again. Get to know your little nieces."

"I have only seen them in photographs..."

"The girls would love it here, I'm sure."

"But this couldn't be a short visit. For it to be worthwhile setting up we'd have to plan on a few years. The girls would have to be set up with something..."

"It would be a good change of pace for them."

"I haven't seen my sister in almost fifteen years... It's worth serious consideration. I'll give New York the hard sell." Rocky gave the top of my head a brotherly peck. "I'll have to make up new excuses to visit you now that Jeeves has me set up with a dictaphone and a transcription service to write down my letters to my sister."

"Oh, now who's the boss here?"

"It occurred to me we should be a little more cautious."

Rocky chuckled. 

"I suppose nothing wrong with that. When you record, remember to re-create a dinner party. Glass of something, maybe a large picture of your sister. Make sure you copy me into your new letters."

"That will make you, and Corky who've asked to get copies. Any more and I'll have to start a proper mailing list." I thought for a moment. "Maybe you should write my sister a bit too. Give her the insider's view of New York."

"Write to your sister? Really?" Rocky chuckled. "And who should I tell her I am? Your travel agent?"

"My adopted brother, of course. I want her to know who you are so you can be a proper uncle to our nieces." I was teasing a bit, but I could see he was touched.

"You'd introduce me to your family?" He choked a bit, "Really?"

"Why wouldn't I?" I asked and Rocky kissed me suddenly.

"Why wouldn't you?" He laughed. "Of course, I'll write your sister. If she's half like you, she'll probably consider everything I hate about New York a ringing endorsement of the first order."

"It will take a little time to work everything out. She might be married again for all I know..."

"And you need to be in London for that fellow of yours that's getting married?"

"You'll have your retreat in France to keep you busy for a little while. And it seems, I have some business in France that requires me to visit at least once a month. So I can't possibly be making plans to stay in New York..."

Rocky kissed me again - slowly this time, teasing me a bit with a slow sucking and biting that seemed quite promising.

"How about you come inside, darling? I need to tell you about what the worms have been up to...."


End file.
